Argo Maxim
by MixzremixzD
Summary: Circa. M41, in the Milky Way galaxy, the engines of fate begin to run. As Overlord of a dying legion and a world eclipsed in ice, Khaoron must race to enact his end-game before the curtains close on his stage. A Dark Crusade is coming, the wolves are circling and vendetta must be settled.
1. Ostium Opus

Note: This is a re-write of a prior story that went by the same name/premise but has had some subtle and major changes.

* * *

_"Ergo in reality evident a ghost upon not which seen. _

_In terms a shadow is shed in Meconopsis,_

_Through a cancer the light is set for ransom,_

_In a ransom the stone azure ascends… in a vision an evergreen chrysalis,_

_Crimson metal set in monochrome loathsome._

_A Maxim set to a debt an eon ago,_

_To malignance on pillars life, _

_Forthwith my devil travels on wings halo,_

_As bold a flower told in strife,_

_An epoch in Argo, my angel... tattered horns elevating in judgement._

_Begin the cry in rogue torment,_

_Commence the war in the shadows malevolent,_

_Instigate the crime paid with a Revenant,_

_Begin the End that a thousand sons could not in a lifetime prevent."_

Khaoron opened his eyes.

The ruby coloured fires looked into the darkness around him. Mechanical receptors made instant work of the lack of light bringing the haunted chambers to still life.

For what felt like forever he sat in the quiet chambers with a perfect stillness, hovering above a platform of liquid metal that rocked about like a living ocean. With each passing second the fire in the Overlords eyes cooled and a powerful frame more ancient than mankind shuddered with an alien hiss.

Necrodermis plates locked into place as a myriad cables shrank away to skulk back into the shadows of the Regents throne room and a giant ribcage ascended to a station above.

With a slow motion Khaoron tugged at the final cable that nested at the back of his neck. A sharp clarity stung his mind as the connection was lost. Severed from the digital enormity of the _Shadowlith_ he could almost feel the serenity of the darkness.

The regents room was featureless and obsidian, without the useless pomp and grandeur that was usually prevalent amongst others leaving only a Spartan architecture.

Suddenly, as if reacting to a spatial change the sea of metal froze. Khaoron glared upwards into a red glow that now bathed the black room. A cube, interlocking and rotating upon itself into impossible shapes stared back at him.

"The Athias theatre, Koziko Ethmeht's 2nd verse…a sophomore opera of greed, love and vengeance. Have you heard it?"

"Of course I have." was all Khaoron wanted to say.

"Was it good?"

"Where are we?"

"Approximately ten hours from the Primary target. All vessels register a 100% success through the Celestious and the null-field engaged by the _Shadowlith_ is operating a maximum efficiency. The fleet is one with the darkness."

He registered the words flooding into his mind and began working on a million thoughts at once. Engrams fired ruthlessly tossing about a generations worth of knowledge and refining them into a strategy.

"Did I recite the words correctly?"

Another metallic shudder and the Overlord stood to his full height, the throne hovering slowly to the floor.

"Will you sing them with me?"

Khaoron began to stride forwards. With each step on the frozen metal sea a wave of black scarabs rose up. The shapeless form melding with his skeleton body. Grafting into him the tools to harness arcane sciences and a carapace made from the most advanced sempiternal weaves.

"…. will you walk with me?"

Khaoron stopped at the end.

In a graceful motion he turned to the dim light. It had now dissolved into a frigid mass small enough to grasp.

"Never call me that name again." he said with a haunted tone.

"Don't leave me." It replied.

"You're not real."

"I exist."

He turned to face the fading light that now began to draw closer to him. The glow created a crimson tone on the Overlords body that matched his eyes.

"As a figment of thought, that is not reality."

"_Unfurl my love but two realities present - your world, and others a phantasm evident. Existence like this are worlds of the mind dreams: their reality is not as forthwith seems. What is crucial is clause in judgement. The arrival of a Maxim evident._

_A Vision observed knows not the written but a ghost to provide a threat, a dream and power; the solace of refuge, and pain. They give your reality meaning yet do not exist; and thus they are all that matters._"

Khaoron opened his eyes. A cold breath escaped from an iron jaw sealed shut.

From the liquid metal, seemingly a million miles beneath him, a smooth orb dangled loosely in the air. He stretched out his hand but fell short.

Countless cables snaked around him, some plugged directly into the Overlords body while others into the giant ribcage that encircled him restricting his movements. He paused for a moment letting his arm hang outstretched.

In a ponderous flight the orb began to glide towards him.

As it nestled in his palm a radiance of blue light shone through its black sheen like and ocean wave flowing beneath its surface and Khaoron's ruby eyes chuckled.

"It was just a dream."


	2. Invasion Part 1

Note: This is a re-write of a prior story that went by the same name/premise but has had some subtle and major changes.

* * *

The invasion had begun.

The cerebral minds of a dozen lords worked to unravel the layers of defences that where stationed on the forge world of Maleghra. Choked by the toxic fumes of the endless machines in the miles high manufactorum complexes, the planet was shrouded in an almost perpetual shade.

Every now and again specs of dust and black clouds would part to allow the red giant Balladan to illuminate the greyscale world with its warm fiery touch.

Several regiments of Astra militarum and even a Space marine chapter had taken to the forge world, for it supplied crucial war machines and vessels to carry the Emperors due to traitors, xenos and mutant alike.

Now, fate would have Maleghra pay its own at the hands of a primeval menace. A race of blighted machines that have been resurrected to enact their will on the galaxy, and it is upon this world that the Dominion of the eastern fringe has grasped. Every passing hour sees mechanical talons sink their grasp further and further into the planet.

Legion upon legion relentlessly advance into hab-block, sewers, palaces and work-zones. It was a systematic, planet wide extermination. Or at least that was what the Imperium believed...

Khaoron, the Overlord of Astilia sat enthroned on his starborne vessel, _Shadowlith_, surveying the real-time holographic visuals of each and every one of his vassals. It was not yet necessary for him to descend to the surface and he was content with letting the lesser lords and nobles play their part in the theatre of war. The gargantuan antechamber that was the bridge of the vessel was lavished by the display of combat at the surface, a slow advance that only the undead would have patience for.

"My lord, Zankhrow has prevailed against the Astartes in the northern region of sector 47-9b, the area is now subject to our obelisks."

Hollow ruby eyes blazed with a myriad thoughts and calculations and despite the technological superiority the Necrons had the sheer mass of humans were proving to be something resembling a challenge. For Khaoron it had been a little over eons since he was subject to a war that victory was never assuredly in his grasp. Even after the millennia in stasis and reawakening to find his world a far cry from its true glory, he had managed to best all his enemies with nothing but contemptuous ease. Whole systems had been enslaved to the will of the Dominion and planets were darkened, never again to be seen by the light of the Astronomicon.

"Lord Khaoron, Kar'taknen has begun a full scale retreat of his forces, estimate damage...47% the enemy have air superiority and are beginning bombing runs, estimate damage...89%."

When he was alive Khaoron might have rustled at the horrific loses but now, unfeeling and cold he looked on still at the pyrotechnic display of his legions being blasted apart in an inferno.

Besides his throne Xenon stepped forward, the Triarch Legionnaires eyes burned with displeasure as he hastened to several control panels.

Within moments all visuals of the multiple theatres of conflict were erased and replaced with the single figure of Kar'taknen. The Necron lords frame was pitted with circular craters and scarred by several burn marks. A layer of soot and ash also clung to the now darkened metallic frame, turning the royal scarlet of the dynasty into a dirty red.

Seconds turned to unresponsive minutes as Khaoron waited, his eyes never gazing away from Kar'taknen, it wasn't until the voice of Xenon bellowed through the antechamber, demanding the lord's attention that the silence was broken.

"The war is being prosecuted all according to your parameters, we advance steadily upon the enemy capital."

"_My _parameters?" Khaoron asked, he couldn't care less for the lack of honorific when addressed but something else caught his attention.

"Yes. This war is all according to your plans...is it not?"

The question forced a mechanical laugh from the Overlord, if it was anyone else they would have been graced with the event horizon of a black hole.

"Aboard the _Shadowlith_ I gathered my generals, nobles of Astilia and I gave them free reign to bring the humans to heel, this is _your _war Necron, failure is on your head."

The image of Kar'taknen stepped forward tightly grasping his warscythe.

"Failure is not something I court when dealing with mortal creatures, I am a noble of Astilia a Necron Lord-"

"And I am its Overlord!" Khaorons interjection was swift like a Voidblade, his voice carrying a haunting tone that silenced even the undead crew of the bridge "You are dismissed."

The holographic light fizzed and faded instantly and with it came the previous visuals of the multi-faceted conflict.

Rising to his full regalia Khaoron moved away from his throne and out of the antechamber, following in suit was Xenon.

"Ready my royal Decurion and the Deathbringer flight, we head for the surface."

"If Kar'taknen hadn't been as consumed by his arrogance, there wouldn't be a need for your descent." Xenon replied.

Khaoron stopped for a moment seemingly lost in contemplation before responding.

"Of all my vassals he is the only one I trust...when you give someone a semblance of power they will do everything to keep it. Kar'taknen is certainly arrogant but a fool he is not; I can speculate with assured accuracy that complications arose on the surface that forced his hand."

The glimmer of contemplation and understanding shone in Xenon's eyes and Khaoron continued.

"He would never seek to leave the shadow I cast because it is only under it that he can hope to show his, occasional, brilliance."

"This complication then, it will require more than just a Decurion and formation?"

"Of course...release the Tesseract Vault."


	3. Invasion Part 2

Note: This is a re-write of a prior story that went by the same name/premise but has had some subtle and major changes.

* * *

When Avadan Tarsus stared at the dusk sky he wouldn't see charcoal shaded clouds filled with pollutant gases. He wouldn't see the red hues of Balladan dancing across the thickness of the atmosphere. At the grand forge palace of the Archmagos Myllinox the 2nd company captain of the Dire Wolves would gaze to the skies and witness what an invasion really meant.

The Astartes was no stranger to siege warfare. Having fought on both sides he had vital experience and ensured that the defences of the forge palace was as articulate and impenetrable as only an Imperial Fist would be proud of. In fact, it was only mere hours ago that they had comfortably routed a large Necron phalanx.

Now, a single drop of cold sweat fell from his scarred brow to drop onto his fiery orange armour. As a space marine he knew no fear and yet, he could not help but balk at the living tomb that descended from the heavens.

Scores of monoliths began their descent in a ponderous formation that was equally flanked by a cluster of humming obelisks. The charcoal clouds gave way to the sheen of the alien living metal, and the red glow of Balladan was instead drowned out by the circulating blue discharge of ancient war machines.

The _Shadowlith_ hung closely to the stratosphere of the planet, and aboard Khaoron watched with indifference.

"The humans have fortified an impressive station for themselves."

Khaoron barely noticed the hunched cryptek crawl into the teleportation array.

"No wonder Kar'taknen was defeated, his legions would have been smashed by the near infinite corridors and ramparts while trying to storm the central stairwell," as he spoke Khaorons eyes stared at the visual image the cryptek created with just a wave of his hand "whatever their commander is, it is very knowledgeable to craft a marvel of structure."

"You marvel at the creations of these creatures?"

"I marvel that they are at the very least adept. My lord, is it really wise to stage an assault of this level?"

Now Khaoron arched his gaze to stare at Casa'ravon, despite being fashioned into a high quality necrodermis frame the techno-sorcerer still walked with a gait that one would imagine as spinal damage despite rarely ever attending any form of surface conflict.

"Explain yourself cryptek." he drowned out slowly.

"You gave your nobles independence to carry out the subjugation of this world, now you take it from them to clean up the mess Kar'taknen had left himself in, I must express _concern _that this move is not the soundest."

"Consider this the enemy capital," Khaoron started, although his eyes betrayed the spark of irritation of explaining his thoughts "When we first arrived using the Celestious we found a world although unprepared was fortunate to have garrisoned such a large force, likely we caught them in a routine upkeep and supply and with surprise we overwhelmed their fleet and annihilated all hopes of leaving the planet. Yet their entire world is a fortress, not one specific area more defendable than the other, to tackle this our forces scoured the surface simultaneously, cutting off any offensive battle groups from one another...nevertheless here they are... the insects have scurried to gather at a hive, no doubt to wait out the onslaught until reinforcements arrive."

"Reinforcements my lord? I intercepted no such call."

"You didn't, but I did."

At this the cyclopean Necron was unsure. He was no warrior for certain, his skills were more suited to operations and crafts aboard the _Shadowlith_, and yet why did he not pick up a distress signal from the human world? Biotransferrance had removed the feeling of fear from him but the concept was still engrained in his mind, and a question burned more brightly than a furnace.

What does Khaoron know that he doesn't?

In any case the Overlord was done explaining things to his cryptek when Xenon arrived at the array, a curt nod and an information burst signalled to Khaoron that the stage was set for the downfall of the humans.

The room fizzled to life as several archways ignited with blue light, and from elevating platforms ranks of Necrons stepped forward waiting to be thrust inevitably into battle.

At the centre of the hall a barge arose, its drivers already grafted to the controls, ready for the Overlord to take command.

Meanwhile, at the surface of Maleghra, apocalypse ensued.

Avadan, with the help of the Commissars bolt pistol, had rallied the Astra militarum and PDF to take to the guns post haste. Within minutes the sky exploded with a barrage of flak, ordnance, incendiary and all manner of projectile known and unknown.

Amidst the barrage Avadan struggled to count accurately the number of Necron vessels still descending, regardless if even a handful made under the firing arcs of the AA batteries the hour would get magnanimously worse.

Slow minutes fleeted by before orders were issued to cease fire, a haze of dust and debris littered the already polluted sky, shrouding the palace in a premature darkness denser than anything the charcoal clouds could achieve. The seconds of cease fire were staggering, an uneasy anxiousness gnawed at Avadan and he tugged at his power sword restlessly.

The restlessness would have been suppressed easily enough if he didn't notice his battle brothers displaying the same symptoms, Unable to handle it he voxed in the Tempestor Sojric. He didn't even begin his sentence when the veteran Scion voiced his own concerns. That was the final straw.

Turning and sprinting to a battlement Comm. Station he barked to the officer to begin opening fire again. Maybe if the Captain had acted on his instincts they would have been prepared for the Doom scythes.

Under the cover of the immense debris floating around the fliers had perfect cover. Invisible to even acute scanners they hit the Imperial position like a thunderbolt. Death rays lit the ground with lines of explosions. Everywhere around him Avadan saw turret, station and land suffer horribly to the sudden assault.

Without even realising it he was lying in the dirt, blackened pieces of rubble and human flesh surrounded him as the once Comm. Station was reduced to dust.

As he stared into the heavens he witnessed hundreds of Doom scythes rake the ground with fire, they circled once then twice before peeling off into the distance their wailing cacophony leaving with them.

The Imperium had been bloodied but not yet mortally wounded. On the double, squadrons of Vendettas took to the skies and anyone brave enough to man a turret still in existence fired haphazardly trying to knock down as many enemy fliers as possible.

Between all this, from the cover of parted debris, the monoliths still descended. The intense barrage clearly had an effect as many sported damage that even the living metal struggled to keep pace with. But it was still not enough, in actuality only a handful had been destroyed in their descent, and too many obelisks remained to warrant closer strikes with air support.

Avadan took a moments stock and realised the knifes edge they were in, the militarum needed rallying again if they were to repel the ground invasion that was imminent, now that air cover couldn't be counted on they needed to take the fight into the narrow corridors of the sub-forge and deny the Necrons their numerical advantage.

Cursing loudly to himself the Dire Wolf captain ordered all of his men to form up in their transports. By the Emperors will they were going to lead by example and pray that the militarum follow. Armoured battle groups of rhinos, predators and whirlwinds revved their machine spirits and tumbled off into the lower battlements of the palace.

And it was all according to plan.

Within moments the first of the monoliths touch ground and from swirling eternity gates the Necrons stepped forward to begin their siege. Aboard the command barge Khaoron surveyed the scene before him. Elevated above the battlefield he could see with certainty the orange figures race to the lower levels to forestall the ground assault. Amongst the tight corridors his warriors will most likely be funnelled and obliterated with precision just like Kar'taknen was, only this time...he counted on it.

The sheer number of monoliths and their particle whips will offer an impassable gauntlet out of the palace, while within its bowels wraiths and tomb stalkers would haunt the shadows. In truth he had gambled with this assault, gathering the entirety of the Necron forces on Maleghra and diverting it at this very spot. Countless more of his soldiers will be destroyed in the coming hours, but as an Overlord he knew the risks.

Everything was calculated, and he had all the information he needed. A flash of anger sparked behind his eyes as he remembered the brief scene aboard the _Shadowlith_, all his precautions and schemes to unravel the humans only paled in comparison to what he had to do against his own kin.

The memory of Casa'ravon almost caused his thoughts to flare further, with a flick of his hand a black orb manifested from the air resting in his taloned palm. Its surface was pitched with a steady blue pulse before he banished it to non-existence once again. He needed an edge on all his enemies, and the distress signal was just another weapon in his arsenal. It was almost surprising, that a simple S.O.S in the right hands could be a deadly weapon.

The humans would believe in hope; they will rally around their generals to wait out the storm until deliverance. Just one more minute, one more enemy to kill, one more life to save before help arrives. They would say to themselves before dying. He didn't need any psychic gifts to know their thoughts. As for the Cryptek he was a crafty one.

The type who only needed one eye to plot the course of stars across the galaxy. Against that kind of mind, the unsettling feeling of a superior intellect was enough to keep him in place.

A mechanical chuckle escaped from his metal throat. The signal, outbound reaching for space. To the humans it had reached help in the neighbouring sector, to his cryptek it had been intercepted without his knowledge.

That was the Overlords power, an elemental understanding of the living and dead. A complex mind that knew you more than you know yourself.

With a thought burst the barge swerved into ecstatic life. Its repulsor engines shrieking as it cut through the air, in and between the spires, walkways and perilous platforms. Traversing through the lower battlefield Khaoron reached the higher battlements where humans scurried about.

As the barge dived down again he knew for certainty that the destroyer cults where in place, ready to pounce and begin the harvest of lambs.


	4. Invasion Part 3

Note: This is a re-write of a prior story that went by the same name/premise but has had some subtle and major changes.

* * *

A hail of gunfire coupled with the frail screams of men filled the theatre that played out around the Forge palace.

In the early minutes of the assault, at the touchdown of the monoliths the Astra militarum had lay scrambling and tossed about like children. There was little to no militaristic cohesion in their actions as base human instinct took over. Forced into a fight or flight scenario they had been easy pickings for the Necrons.

Aboard his command barge Khaoron along with the destroyer cult led by Rah'nubis were like a pack of vultures, every time they rose from the shadows of cover or the hidden passages of the outer palace they would leave scores of men and women lying coldly in pools of blood.

The battle was turning to a calculated slaughter, those that fought back were herded into tight knit pockets of human bodies.

At that point, the Annihilation barges ghosted into the battlefield. Targeting the large groups of flesh their Tesla destructors would wreak untold havoc on the infantry. Within seconds the mass of bodies would burn and boil as discharges from the destructors' arc would jump between targets.

From his vantage point Khaoron could see the spectacle play out. Despite the onset of steady victory his eyes scanned impassively at the entire theatre and something was missing. Ruby eyes flared as he realised humans were a tenacious lot, for ten-thousand years they have fought against the inevitable force of entropy and now they do so again.

It was slow but the militarum was steadily organising themselves. Someone apparently competent and authoritarian enough had seized command and is now showing for it, using the immense wealth of cover their pockets of resistance suffered the worst of the destroyers with little losses only to disperse as soon as an Annihilation barge was spotted further minimalizing losses. A sound manoeuvre Khaoron thought, simple as it is yet effective and it had him curious.

Reaching into the mind of Kar'taknen who led the battle at the inner shadows of the palace he began.

"Our element of surprise wears thin, the humans will soon show some backbone and drag this out longer than it needs to be."

"It is as you say here, their super-soldiers have begun a counter-attack, not even the wraiths are capable of halting them to any significant degree" Although late the replay was as expected.

"Their commander is alive then?" he asked simply in return.

"I am... unsure, my Lord, however judging by their level of retaliation I would assume that is the case."

"So tell me, what was it _exactly _that caused your rout, I've removed air superiority as a factor and all you have said was that it was a war machine."

Khaoron noted the length of silence that followed, a fractionally small part of him wanted to give the noble benefit of the doubt and say that he was caught in some horrific explosion that ripped him from existence.

Regardless of that there were more pressing matters. Now functioning like a capable army the humans turned on the Necrons with a vengeance, any Annihilation barge that so much peeked out of hiding was welcomed with volleys of missiles from heavy weapons teams and at the same time, scout sentinels chased down the more mobile destroyers.

Rising up high to gaze down on the battlefield it was the same scene everywhere. The militarum were trying to bring the Necrons to a grind, a game of attrition that both sides could easily play.

Trapped in his thoughts Khaoron barely noticed the barge begin to jink erratically.

A trio of tanks had formed up aiming their quad-guns at the sky, while the incarcerated crew of the barge avoided much of the fire the bright flashes of light warned of the quantum shielding. Driving the barge into a steep descent he readied his curved void-scythe awaiting the calculated moment to strike deep into the enemy vehicles. True enough, as the repulsors of the barge whined into a drifting halt, Khaoron's scythe embedded itself into the first vehicle. Ripping it free he faced the next tank which struggled to bring its large weapons to bear.

If the Overlord could smile a large snarl would have painted his face, outstretching a taloned hand he waited until all four enemy barrels were almost on target. With a sickening wrench of twisted metal, the main gun was torn free from the vehicle. Sparks of blue energy flashed from each of Khaorons fingers and ended on some piece of the mangled turret weapon before dissipating in a sapphire steam.

Now there was only one vehicle left, and it was furiously reversing into and over all manner of battlefield debris.

Amidst the sounds of conflict, he picked up on the nearby shouts of infantry traversing the difficult terrain. They were clad in a heavier armour and carried cabled weapons drawing power from their backpack. Instantly recognising them as the Tempestus scions Khaoron angled the barge to face a worthier opponent.

Assured arrogance marked his red eyes as he waited casually for them to dive to cover and get into volley position. Behind them chimeras and armoured sentinels lined up as well to take their chances against the Overlord, it was at that moment Kar'taknen decided it was time to contact him.

"My Lord, I've accosted one of their own and it's ready to grovel all the details of their war machine."

At the same time, it seemed like the glare from the red sun was drowned out, the growl of heavy tracks echoed around the passages as the full might of the Astra militarum rallied around their war machine.

"Kar'taknen," he began with a hard edge to his voice "I don't want prisoners...what I want is you at the surface now!" before the Necron Lord could even stutter a reply Khaoron broke the connection and stared face to face with a volcano cannon.

The immense guise of the Shadowsword tank near enough blocked out the sun, its metallic surface was a chronicle of centuries of warfare as deep battle scars criss-crossed the hull.

A slow wave of dust hit them as it echoed around the outer palace. With it materialised the mobile prison of the Necrons, the Tesseract Vault shunted itself into existence behind the Overlord. There was a ponderous grace to the way the prison glided to meet the Shadowsword which was only followed by the acute whine of the volcano cannon.

The barge jinked ferociously. Within his eyes a host of symbols warned of the intense stress the Necron vehicle suffered. Khaoron pushed all those aside and gripped the command podium tightly as the quantum shielding burned intensely. While he was gracefully not the target of the Shadowsword proximity to the weapons firing line had been enough to render the barge useless.

Both operators had been reduced to stuttering piles of semi-solid metal and the many critical functions had been damaged. Taking swift control of the wreck Khaoron managed to slither it forcefully into the remains of a ferrocrete wall.

From the hazy chalk of dust and ash that hung in the air there was a soft click and clang. Ruby eyes tracked the near invisible motion to find a hand grenade nestled in the wreck of the barge and for a moment his eyes smiled.

The explosion tore at the remains of the barge and cleared a portion of the dust. The Scions remained tense, and moved with a coordinated precision. Then, from the flames a black and red haze erupted outwards.

The Overlord had jumped in time with explosion and landed heavily on the floor. Skidding from the momentum and draped in a cloak of flames he snatched the leg of one the Scions and flung him into a wall. The human hit the chunk of masonry with a wet slap before going limp.

With an agility unbeknownst to a metallic alien giant Khaoron righted himself and began pacing forwards. The motion was swift and calculated and despite the Scion's superior training to their militarum counterparts they struggled to keep track of the enemy in the dense cloud. Hot-shot lasrifles only managed to pierce into the dust creating a radiant display of light.

Khaoron had his eyes locked on the next target however and moved in on the kill. The human barely had time to react before the Necron had latched onto her from behind. Resistance was futile as the Necron shoved the woman's face into the dirt floor. A bouquet of blood shot outwards as the humans head popped like a red fruit under the grip of the Overlord.

The sound had alerted those within the immediate area. The Scions spun round and opened fire, the laser points digging deep holes into the Overlords body.

Shedding the flames on him with a pulse of energy the Overlord made a dash for the closest pair of humans. The first was unfortunate as he misjudged the reach of the Necron. A pair of energised talons clawed viciously at his body leaving ragged strips of flesh to hang loosely form the ruined anatomy.

The second man to his credit noted the motion and made a sort of back-jump pedal thing that at the very least kept _him_ out of the Necrons reach. The rest all took to a two-by-two formation and fanned out to increase their distance and reload.

Before Khaoron could chase them down he was alerted to the roars of an angry engine. Turning on his heels he met the force of the Taurox APC with a sharp crash. The Necron was shifted back but kept his feet firmly in ground while adjusting his balance to stop himself from falling and being crushed afoot.

Slowly the APC ground to a halt and its treads tore into the ground to propel the vehicle further but to no avail. It seemed that between the friendly bodies and hazardous landscape the driver couldn't get the vehicle to any sort of threatening speed. Still the manoeuvre had caught the Overlord by surprise and spared the Scions.

After the heat of the moment the two machines reached a deadlock, neither able to push against the other.

Without warning, Khaorons ruby eyes flashed with a burning heat. Speaking in his ancient dialect the Necron invoked a pyrotechnic display of power as hieroglyphic seals on his arms lit up in a ravenous crimson. His hands turned white hot and began to sink into the dissolving metal. There was no time for the driver to react when Khaorons hands reached into the engine block.

The fiery result cleared the area of the remaining dust cloud and a few unfortunate Scions to be hit by the flaming debris.

Khaoron mused fondly at his personal handiwork before stretching out his hand to call his void-scythe, the weapon coasting to its master with a warm glow. At the very least, he thought, the humans had paid in full for the ruination of his barge. That way at least one vendetta was settled.

Such thoughts didn't last long however as the echoes of war thrummed even louder. He glanced towards the Shadowsword and cursed at the machine. He would have to leave it for now.

Under the guise of smoke from the Taurox Khaoron softly stepped back into a massive dividing wall. His formed shifted from the solid, but now charcoal black metal, to a hazy grey as he phased through the wall. Appearing on the other side he noted the new location as the central courtyard.

A titanic explosion rocked the entire palace as the Shadowsword opened fire once again. Even with the thick ferrocrete behind him Khaoron felt his frame vibrate with the shock of the laser weapon. At this stage, the Coalescent C'tan duelling the hammer of the Imperium was just another concern when he spotted an Imperial Knight stalk the high towers of the outer palace, battling against several tomb stalkers the knight-titan held more than its own including withstanding the bulk of the monoliths concentrated fire.

Clutching his void-scythe tightly and running a multitude of calculations he once again opened his palm to form a black orb, despite still retaining its blue pulse there was an agitated edge to it that crackled with brief spikes of current. Steadying his racing mind, he let time flow freely, blotting out the chaos of war around him he let the world crawl and events act out without intervention.

Even as the wall he used for cover was blasted apart into fragments he kept his focus on the orb, steadily its agitated edge smoothed out until the current was replaced by an ocean wave. Finally satisfied and calm he banished the device and began pacing towards the knight-titan, rerunning the calculations again and taking fuller stock of his surroundings.

As he made his way Xenon landed beside him, gravity displacer bringing the legionnaire in tandem with the Overlord.

"The humans are certainly determined, all headway along the subphase 11X and R65 have been halted."

"The reasons for Kar'taknen's defeat have shown themselves, the frail humans have rallied and are using them as spear tips for any offensive." he explained putting emphasis in the plurals.

"And does your plan remain unchanged?"

He thought for a brief second before replying calmly "Of course...if the humans stand because of a crutch what better way to topple them than to seize it in a heartbeat."

At that the wailing screech of Doom scythes began to rise, from the skies their crescent shapes cut swathes through the air aiming for the palace. In unison the death rays began to reshape the grounds of the palace, several of the deadly beams caught the Imperial knight trapping it in a network of resonating fury. It didn't take long before the void shields failed and the Knight-titan was subjected to the full ferocity of the Deathbringer flight.

Dropping to one knee the Knight's misery was brought to a swift end when a concentrated barrage of particle whips tore it pieces. The ruthless death of the knight-titan was a vicious blow to morale, with his enhanced vision Khaoron spotted scores of humans who previously held their ground steadily break in waves and flee in all directions, the sight was reminiscent of the sentiments that faded with him, so many eons ago.


	5. Invasion Part 4

Note: This is a re-write of a prior story that went by the same name/premise but has had some subtle and major changes.

* * *

With the ignoble death of the Imperial Knight a large fragment of the militarum forces had scattered, in a bid for survival each man and woman took to looking after themselves.

The scene around the outer palace was as close to hell as possible, pillars of flame connected the ground to the clouds. In the sky a host of Doom scythes dominated every inch of air with no Valkyrie, Vendetta or Stormraven able to wrest control from the Necrons. The Imperium was confined to the ground and even then, the tides swiftly favoured their enemies.

From the earth came eruptions of Canoptek wraiths signalling the arrival of Kar'taknen's subterranean forces. In the second wave were Ghost arks ready to deliver their undead warriors to the hell outside. Between all this skittering scarabs began devouring the landscape.

Picking up on the ambience of intense conflict Khaoron hazarded a guess as to the state of his Tesseract vault and the militarum Shadowsword, evidently time was not on their side. When he turned to speak to Xenon his voice conveyed the subtle tones of impatience.

"I want this area cleared of human presence, and I want Kar'taknen now!"

Xenon nodded assuredly and was about enact the Overlords will when a swarm of scarabs greeted them both, in tow was a human soldier clearly bruised and damaged.

"My Lord I have a gift." Kar'taknen's voice was marred with a smug tone as the scarabs refined and he finally took shape.

Xenons head tilted slightly waiting to see the relevance of the prisoner accosted by the noble. Khaoron studied the man garbed in primitive protective clothing for a while before regarding the lord with nothing but a glare. To his credit Kar'taknen took an instant to study the surrounding and made his reply to the point. As the noble gave a brief of the situation below the surface all three made their way over to the dead hulk of the Knight-titan.

On this side the Necrons had a ruling presence, edifices of Imperial statutes were either smouldered black or broken beyond recognition. Humming Monoliths stood sentinel as ranks of Immortals and Lychguard surveyed the area.

"You can do it then?" Khaorons eyes studied Xenon carefully "I trust the stakes need no explaining."

Xenon gave his affirmation by the intense pulse of his Rod of covenant and glided away.

The remaining two nobles angled their gazes towards the human that wheezed uncontrollably, garbed in a bloodied and brown flak armour the human almost looked more dead than alive. Without regard Kar'taknen grabbed it by the neck and brought it upwards as if offering his lord. Khaoron dismissed the gesture and instead began circling an entrance to the lower levels of the forge palace.

"I'm going to ask you a question human...you don't have to answer, not yet." Khaoron started all the while disregarding the look in Kar'taknen's eye "Under Maleghran protocol any civilian not able to serve as part of the draft for PDF under immediate wartime threat are serviced in other aspects. Those that do not make that cut are packaged and sent into shelters to...wait out...the invasion or evacuation depending on the circumstances."

Nothing.

"Tell me, do you have loved ones? Other variants of your species that social utility demands that you express favouritism of one rather than the whole?

You're not part of the PDF, your garb and demeanour tell me otherwise...you are young, brash and passionate. You believe that humanity has claim to the stars, hope runs in your veins and forces your heart to beat when others fail, what you feel is a sense of manifest destiny am I correct?"

Kar'taknen kept silent as Khaoron spoke. The filters of his mechanical mind dissected all of the Overlords words, tones and mannerism. In just a few sentences he had adopted a near perfect Maleghran accent.

It was mesmerising the way the words rolled off Khaoron's mouth, amongst the ambience of war they floated in the air like a feather swaying to the wind. If Kar'taknen was anything less than a Necron he might have been subject to the acoustic manipulation that Khaoron was introducing to the human.

"I was like you once." The Overlord spoke again and the human rustled. "Eons ago, when I could eat and sleep, breathe in the warmness of scorched highlands and feel my lungs rupture time and again from the genetic cancers of my father."

"I know what you are." the human finally wheezed out, through the filters of the mask and rasping breath he sounded strangely similar to the Overlord "You are the so-called god of Astrola, enslaver of worlds and deity of the Starlight!"

Khaoron's eyes smiled before speaking, he had got his reaction out of the human.

"Ah! Astrola, it seems like you've visited that world then, the tribes of Kernos...they never could get the right pronunciation and always seemed melodramatic. Still we have other concerns."

With a focussed thought burst Khaoron found the systems that operated the base infrastructure of the palace and opened the lift to the lower levels, a flight of mason stairs coated in darkness greeted them as the two Necrons descended with their prisoner in close captivity. Entering the confined bowels of the palace however did nothing to blot out the echoes of war both on the outside and inside.

Gothic crossroads, pillars and chambers all had the tell-tale sign of struggle. Hidden sounds of rapid fire weaponry and skittering claws surrounded their every move which did absolutely nothing to phase the Necron nobles, the human though was far less fortunate. Completely unaware of the scope of crisis that took place beneath his feet he shivered with fear at every turn and every shrill sound. Sure enough, the descent into the depths soon brought their passage to the corpses.

Battered beyond reason the Astartes of the Dire Wolves chapter began slowly revealing themselves. Every one of them sported scars and injuries that were horrifying in brutality, often giving the brown masonry a new red colour.

Stopping in the midst of a pile of mangled bodies Khaoron faced the human again, taking him from Kar'taknen he let the man stand and savour the bloody atmosphere.

"For over a decade I studied every single network, passage and protocol that this planet holds" the Overlord began quietly "In reality I probably know more about this world than you do."

"You know nothing about us!" the man shot back forcing only a mechanical chuckle from his captor.

"Delude yourself human it amuses me." Agonising silence followed as Khaoron circled the man who muttered the musings of a person on the brink.

"I will not bow to the horrors of xenos...the Emperor protects my-"

"SOUL!" Khaoron had burst into action. Grabbing the man by the collar and lifting him into blood splattered walls "There is no God-Emperor! No chance of redemption, there is no escaping the cold truth...empires rise and fall and the age of man has ended. You have nothing...no one to grovel to or offer your prayers." With his other hand the Overlord pulled the face mask of the human to look him eye to eye "The Emperor cannot hear you mortal...but I can, commend your soul to me and oblivion will no longer follow, all I need is one thing from you...the Archmagos, where is he?"

The man had already paled with shock at the Overlords sudden outburst, the only sign of life was flickering blue eyes that all but avoided the ruby glare. Throwing the man to the ground Khaoron manifested a black orb, offering it to the human he then stalked into the shadows. Twin red dots and a maleficent voice the only sign of his presence.

"_If Pain must come, may it come quickly. Lest the life I have to live, be wrested from my hands O so simply. If choices illusion be undone and reality presents an adoption, may it make a deliverance now. Then I will either wait for my Pain or shoulder it on my affliction._

Kar'taknen now stepped forward, with his Overlords parable finished he took hold of the man's shoulder in a vice-like grip capable of breaking bone. Speaking in the ancient Necron dialect the mechanical voice echoed around the chamber and sent fresh waves of panic throughout the human. Forcing a metallic hand into the man's mouth Kar'taknen fiddled around until he had firm grasp of one of his teeth...

Above, on the surface the battle lines had been fiercely drawn.

The dividing wall that had sectioned the palace had been brought down by the titanic duel of two super-heavy war machines. On one side was the hefty bulk of the Shadowsword, roaring volcano cannon reducing all in its path to ashen cinders. On the other side was the Coalescent C'tan, Horun'dai. The first volleys of the volcano cannon had badly crippled the mobile prison of the Tesseract vault, slowly and assuredly Horun'dai was breaking free.

Every flex of otherworldly muscle resulted in realities cries of transgression. Even though the nanoscarabs and Canoptek sentinels worked tirelessly to keep the fluxuating power levels in check there was an undeniable sense of nature being pressured against her will.

A God was being unchained.

With all this Xenon stared assuredly at the scene unfold all around him. As a Triarch Legionnaire he had authority over all Necrons when not in the presence of the regent. It was his responsibility to vanquish the remaining militarum resistance, ensure the destruction of the Shadowsword and keep Horun'dai from escaping the vault.

From the warzone in front of him Xenon theorised his first target, hovering above the battlefield with a company of praetorians he signalled the first wave of Necrons to begin their relentless advance. Forsaking their cover position, ranks of warriors met head-first with the gun lines of heavy weapons teams and platoon lasrifles. Without pause the metallic warriors advanced, chunks and limbs were blown off in their course but the eyes of the Necrons betrayed the deathless nature of a warrior's existence. As they then reached halfway into the open kill zone Rah'nubis and his destroyer cult once again pounced. Darting from cover to cover the extermination protocols that filtered to each of their nihilistic brethren resulted in pin-point devastating fire.

However, the militarum responded in kind, hellhounds and armoured sentinels swerved over to scour the Necrons from their cover. Now outflanked on the sides the carefully constructed phalanxes began to crumble, caught in the open the concentrated fire ripped apart the destroyers while the gleaming warriors were reduced to molten slag. With that Xenon had all the information needed.

From the cracks of masonry an avalanche of scarabs flooded the battlefield, with them came the wraiths and then the Spyders. Surrounding the sentinels in a black carpet the scarab beetles ate at the armour until they reached the flesh of the pilot inside. Against the hellhounds the phasic nature of the wraiths allowed them to ignore the promethium fury to dive in close and rend the vehicles apart. On the militarum lines, men that were about to abandon cover and charge forward were halted in their tracks.

The final phase of the Legionnaires plan came in the ponderous forms of several Doomsday arks that appeared from the dust and fire. Any who so peeked would be greeted by an overwhelmingly destructive firepower from such a fragile construct.

Xenon had the militarum on the edge and trapped in their cover. To forsake their safe haven would leave them open to suffer the wrath of the doomsday arks, and yet, to stay in cover would only entreat the onslaught of the Canoptek harvesters.

If given just a few more minutes the Legionnaire would have had victory in his grasp. Then, from apparently nowhere the section of the palace that had been illuminated by acres of fire and the deadlock of conflict darkened rapidly under a gargantuan bulk of shadow.

Like a meteorite the huge form of the Shadowsword tank landed in their midst with an apocalyptic barrage. The result was an entire area devastated in an instant. Man and machine were either vaporised, annihilated or buried underneath rubble. A cold silence had been brought to the palace all at once.

From the skies Xenon knew the scope of threat that they now faced, glaring towards space he sent a thought burst to Casa'ravon aboard the _Shadowlith_.

"Bring your conclave of Crypteks here now!" he bellowed.

"I trust that in the aftermath you actually found resources useful to us?" the Cryptek replied with a nonchalance that only infuriated the Legionnaire further.

"Be silent noble, I ordered you to bring your conclave not a reply!" Xenon knew that time was no longer their ally and didn't need to deal with the eccentricities of lesser Necrons. Unfortunately, Casa'ravon was not about to make things easier.

"Khaoron has doomed us all hasn't he?" the Cryptek started, still keeping his casualness "He has forever courted with recklessness and made foolishness his advisor. Legionnaire permit me to-"

Xenon had enough. He pushed the electronic pathways of his mind to their limits and delivered a potent thought burst to Casa'ravon that sent the Cryptek reeling in muted agony. The authoritarian directive that Xenon held temporarily obliterated the Necrons attitude and forced him to listen.

"Leiph Cas Casa'ravon, the Silent King forbid me to come up there and take the God Shackle myself and your head with it." The Legionnaire growled out finally.

Shutting down the connection Xenon had enough time to gaze at Horun'dai the Hound of Time, free from the vault and free from control. The C'tan clambered atop the wreck of the Shadowsword it had flung skywards to give a shriek.

A signal for the end of Maleghra.


	6. Invasion Part 5

Note: This is a re-write of a prior story that went by the same name/premise but has had some subtle and major changes.

* * *

Within the depths of the Maleghran forge palace there was an eerie quiet that was deceptive of the carnage wrought inside. As the two Necron nobles continued their path they were greeted by death. Piles of Astartes lay littered everywhere along with their vehicles. Still they continued downwards, through narrow tunnels and vast production complexes. It became increasingly apparent that in a short time they had gone deeper than palace.

It was into the very heart of the world itself that their journey was taking them. The beating infrastructure of Maleghra was imposing in its scale. The snaking tunnels and platforms all fed into one another delivering vital materials, cargo and the necessary power to the never-ending manufactorum.

Embedded in each masonry wall and cobweb of metallic pipes was the insatiable thirst to build and construct. It wasn't difficult to see the work of many generations. Entire sections had been deconstructed and rebuilt to suit an entirely new purpose while others had simply been cordoned off or left derelict in favour of something else.

It was as if each fragment of architecture was an extension of its designer. Everything seemed cobbled together, granted it was still a far cry from the barbarism of the Orks because the Imperium knew the fundamentals. Yet, all of it was made secondary to the very desire to attain more.

Khaoron let the thought dally in his mind as he passed a heavy production line. He was alien to man. Just as man was alien to him. Still on some level they shared the same sins.

Despite this, their journey in the underworld had a purpose. With the faint knowledge gleaned from the toothless human Khaoron walked with a purpose, the articulate engrams of his mind was piecing together information at a phenomenal rate and his eyes had a burning clarity rarely ever seen before.

As the nobles reached the final walkway they spotted the gateway to their prize. The area was easily as large as the factories they had travelled through yet carried a much more diverse tone to its architecture. Gone were the staple gothic slabs of masonry and incense torches, instead calm blue lights gave off a twilight mood amongst the carefully rounded structure.

Kar'taknen stared upwards, the complex was a huge vertical cylinder. From the perimeter there were various outcroppings that jutted out, some were simply small stages that held onto clicking monitoring stations.

Others were large extensions that branched off into suspended podiums. Upon these there was a soft orange glow that hinted at the administrative offices. Right between everything large bore cables hung like vines off a forest.

"Their Archmagos is here?" Kar'taknen asked curiously. His eyes glazed over the breadth of complex before he found Khaoron at work on control station.

"Parameters in consideration, yes, and our human friend did mention an experimental network that was different from everywhere else." The Overlord replied.

"You trust that insect to give us relevant information?" Kar'taknen queried further.

Khaoron however was paying the noble no more attention as he focussed his mind on the console. A spark lit up behind his eyes as he made a cybernetic connection to the logic banks that ran the operational systems.

It wasn't hard to breach the human processors. They were built on basic logic drives that followed simple commands, while the applications for such systems were endless it also made it needlessly complex when used to run multi-faceted operations like that of a Forge world and relatively easy for Khaoron, and Overlords similar to him, to breach their system.

Once the connection was stable Khaoron opened his mind's eye to the entire underground infrastructure. Finding the relevant keys, he began to tear through the data vaults in a rabid search and destroy directive. It didn't take long for him to find his target within the system, collating the information he delivered a thought burst to Kar'taknen. The noble paused to understand the information and a glimmer of discontent shone in his eyes.

As Khaoron unplugged himself from the system and recalled his senses he managed to catch the subtle echoes of movement. Amidst a vast complex like the palace underground all the sounds bounced of the wall and melded together in a stew of rambling bass.

Not wishing to waste any more time in recognising the source of the sound Khaoron left Kar'taknen to the task he had been assigned and casually walked up to an elevator platform wide enough to fit a tank. A simple switch activated the elevator and slowly it was bringing him up to the first branch, based on what he had just learnt his target was on the second.

When the Overlord finally reached the second branch he was greeted by an open path that led to a rectangular bunker. A smile formed in his eyes and he began taking the steps closer to his goal.

Before he could even act however, a ricochet of mass-reactive bolts ripped through the thin metal covering the elevator in a display of explosive fireworks. Caught by surprise Khaoron back-pedalled furiously as hefty bolter rounds found their mark.

Stumbling in tune to the impact craters that carved out pieces of his carapace the Overlord cursed in a series of his ancient dialogue while dropping to one knee. An instant later a field of ravenous red light erupted around him. The bolts shots that previously sent him reeling lost their velocity the moment they entered the edge of the light only to vaporise before they hit their target.

A groan echoed around him as the metal framework struggled to keep itself together when the hydraulics of the elevator buckled and the platform shuddered violently as if it was ready to come crashing down at any moment.

Then, there was a pause in the heavy gunfire. Khaoron looked up to find situated on a platform about four levels above the bunker, there was a devastator with a heavy bolter. The Astartes spewed his praises to the Emperor and ducked back into the door behind him.

For a moment Khaoron's mind wondered why the human didn't just continue the avalanche of fire but the sound of heavy footsteps alerted his eyes to the door of the bunker. A trio of Sternguard marines, clad in glorified ceramite armour and bathed with laurels and purity seals marched to the centre of the path.

At their lead in a polished black armour was the Chaplain, his glimmering Crozius hungry to deliver retribution. Covering his right was a veteran that made show of his throbbing power-fist while at the rear the remaining marines expertly loaded their combi-weapons.

The sight of the four veterans was enough for Khaoron to trigger his repair nanoscarabs into an overdrive rate. In tandem the red field flickered sporadically until it dissipated into mist.

Suddenly. In a blur of fiery orange. The power-fist Sternguard _sprinted_ across to meet the Necron. In suit followed the Chaplain.

Dashing to either side the two Veterans with the combi-weapons opened fire with a hailstorm of bolts that ravaged the air in red streaks. Khaoron read the motions and his mind worked furiously to calculate the pathways of the gunfire in correlation to the charging marines. His timing needed to be perfect.

As the raging bolts travelled in the air he began moving with a calculated assurance and phased through the initial barrage of gunfire. A waterfall of equations fell before his eyes with each motion and every gesture was made in perfect sequence.

The gap between the opposing sides narrowed. The marines were running at full pelt. Their heavy thuds ringing outwards. The echo creating the atmosphere of a storm. The bolter rounds like rainfall.

Khaoron saw the world around him regress. Time was out of joint. The mass of numbers and symbols in his eyes faded to black, their shapeless mass forming an endless horizon. Beyond that…

Nothing.

Lost in the illusion of time, his phase protocols misfired.

Manifesting himself too soon the Overlord suffered a round to his knee. The sound of screaming metal ripped his mind back to reality. Attempting to compensate for the sudden impairment he stalled and ground to a halt on his good leg.

It was too late however, Khaoron never had time to ready his guard as the Chaplain descended upon him with relentless fury. A slew of litanies became the precursor to the impact of the Crozius. Creating a thunder shock with the force of the over-head swing the Chaplain smashed the weapon against the Necron.

With only one good leg and beset against the raw strength of the Astartes Khaoron was slammed onto his knees, his void-scythe scrambling away from his grasp. The finely crafted Necrodermis body railed at the stress and in his mind's eye there was a stutter of information all crying at the grievances wrought.

Through a colossal amount of will Khaoron forced his awareness into every molecular fibre of his body, the action bringing a sudden clarity to his senses. Able to correctly register the integrity of body he began to discern the balance of power between his self-repair and combat capabilities.

A tender voice resounded in his ears "_Extinction Protocols at 67% initiation._"

The Overlord arced his head to glare into the eyes of the Chaplain. The human wasn't wasting any precious time, his Crozius was already in motion to deliver another blow. Rising to his impressive height Khaoron seized the opportunity to claw at the human before he could strike again. The Chaplain's swing was wide, full of power yet slow and predictable.

Just as his fingers began to glow with energy a thought crossed his mind. In less than a second he cursed at his blindness and panned to his side just in time to catch the eye of the Sternguard with the power-fist.

Behind the emerald lenses Khaoron saw the righteous fury in the human's eye.

Time fell to a crawl and once again the voice rang within his ears "_Extinction Protocols at 73%._"

There was nothing the Overlord could do to stop the backhanded swipe of the power-fist. The Space marine had spun around, adding the momentum of his rotation to the power of the overtly destructive weapon. Khaoron fell backwards in wash of blue fireworks and ruined carapace.

Alien metal clattered on the floor in droves as the Necron stumbled away from his foes. The Astartes however weren't finished. They rushed in on their quarry aiming to overrun the enemy with virtuous prejudice.

The ensuing melee was a whirlwind of action. Both Chaplain and Sternguard pressed the attack on the machine alien yet Khaoron, unwilling to cower before the humans, fought back with just as much fury. It was a brutally spectacular combat. Without his scythe Khaoron was forced to use his sharp talons and whatever pieces of himself as a weapon.

Between every assault Khaoron found himself distracted by the contorted world and the voice inside. Taking the brunt of the power-fist and shrugging it off along with the loose wrecks of his body he made for the Astartes throat in a swift movement.

Grasping hold of the helmet with his right hand Khaoron buried his talons into the eye sockets, watching impassively as a red torrent flowed between his fingers. A sickening sound followed when the Astartes neck was wrenched violently out of place.

Khaoron turned. He caught the Chaplain charging in a furious rage. On calculation the Necron moved in. A network of scorching hieroglyphs appeared along his arm. The Chaplain saw the sudden flare. The Astartes attempted to stall his advance with a sudden premature swing. Khaoron seized the moment.

Diving underneath the forceful swing the Necron found himself skittering along the floor, his legs nearly giving way from the intense strain. The Chaplain, to his credit, reacted with a trained precision. Pulling back on his one-handed swing and at the same time bringing his free hand down in a fist to smash against the Necron.

Khaoron caught the blow and buckled under the pressure of the Astartes. With his reach falling short Khaoron was only able to claw at the Chaplains midsection rather than impaling the human. Searing metallic talons parted the artificer armour in molten strips, following it a steam of flesh and blood fell loosely through the ragged gaps.

The Chaplain was forced into shock and stumbled backwards. Biological safeguards within the armour kicked in to drown out the pain as well as to counteract the boiling blood within bursting arteries.

"_Extinction Protocols at 89%._"

Khaoron was so focussed on the Chaplain that his receptors never noticed the arrival of a scarlet entourage.

Entering from one of the corners in the incredible space to take their position on the walkway, he saw along the perimeter a host of servitors and serfs. Each one working frantically at their mobile stations grafted to their bodies in what was probably a futile attempt to save the forge world.

In their midst, standing tall were a group of what he recognised as the Skitarii honour guard. Behind them, on a massive dais of cables and hydraulic legs was the Archmagos. A fleet of skull drones and mechanical infants hovered around him like twisted butterflies.

A cry echoed from Khaorons metal bones. Ruby eyes registered the thousands of faults in his system that the self-repair nanoscarabs were struggling to keep pace with but pushed them aside.

With his chain-linked cap sprawled over his body the Overlord crawled away from the Chaplain his visage resembling an injured beast. He made sure to keep a level distance from the Astartes but was still wary of the remaining two Sternguard and the new arrivals.

One of the infants dropped in close by him. In its decrepit hands was a tablet screen with another human on the visuals.

A ragged gaze and piercing eyes characterised the man who wore his age with as much pride as the stamp of the Inquisition on his forehead. His tone and mannerisms were brash but every syllable carried the weight of influence.

Surprisingly the first to break the silence was the Inquisitor.

"Xenos" he ground out with prejudiced hate "Of all your kind you are by far the worst."

"Your grace Inquisitor." Khaoron replied. If the Inquisitor was taken aback by the formal tone the Necron adopted, he was an expert at hiding it.

"If only the Emperor would bless me with the opportunity to slay you in person, the choir of the Astronomicon might shine more brightly." The Inquisitor said, his voice tempered.

"Regardless of whatever you may believe, my business here is not with you." without waiting to listen to more of the Inquisitor Khaoron directed his attention to the Archmagos "You however, have someone that belongs to me."

Behind a scarlet hood and hidden by an array of Mechatendrils Archmagos Myllinox held a perverse grin in his clicking eyes.

* * *

Thanks for taking the time to read/review so far. The next chapter 'Reclamation' is special 'cause not only is the Invasion coming to a close but he re-writes will be over. At which point the story moves forward!


	7. The Reclamation

Note: This is a re-write of a prior story that went by the same name/premise but has had some subtle and major changes.

* * *

"_Extinction Protocols at 99%._"

Khaoron's mind was almost a million years away. The humming noise of the underground was convoluted and it played havoc with his perception despite his advanced receptors. Between the waves of information being tossed about there was however a solitary echo that brought with it clarity.

A thought… rather a Maxim. A declaration made so long ago. Upon a valley of sand. No. It was atop a stage of bone and marble. Clinging onto that pseudo-reality his eyes became focussed.

Khaoron cursed in a quiet rage. He wondered for a time whether he had been disconnected from the cradle for too long… Or was it the compound effect of combat? Whatever the case he found himself in a position both precarious and fortunate.

A smile creeped in his eyes as he steadily took stock of the situation. Had he been alive Khaoron no doubt would have been able to taste the oppressive tension in the stale air. With the faux motions of taking a deep breath Khaoron called on his knowledge of social-manipulation and began to pace, slowly, backwards. Inviting the humans closer.

"What do you seek here alien!?" One of the Sternguard spat out as he retrieved the fallen Chaplain "Why do you despoil worlds and put countless innocents to their deaths?"

"Are you afraid, human?" Khaoron replied to the Sternguard even though his eyes never left the Inquisitor.

"I know no fear alien, save that of facing regret before the Emperor and Primarch." The Sternguard shot back. As he did so he dropped the body of the Chaplain and levelled his weapon at the Necron. The only thing stopping him from pulling the trigger was the bellow of the Inquisitor that froze the air.

Khaoron let his eyes stray from the Inquisitor to return the righteous glares of the Sternguard.

"Xenos" The Inquisitor started, his authoritarian voice doing nothing to draw the Necrons eye contact "Arrogance. Has been the flaw that ruined you. For all your supposed intelligence did you _really_ believe us to be so naïve as to fall for your schemes?"

Khaoron's words drove right through the Inquisitors concise words as he simply said "Yes."

The Inquisitor however was like a master of facial subterfuge. Of all the lesser creatures the Overlord had interacted with the man behind the screen seemed immune to anything he said.

"And here we are, assembled in the depths of the Emperors world Maleghra. To watch the bravado of Man and a decade of preparation teeter on collapse." The Archmagos interjected before the Inquisitor could speak again.

Shrouded in the crude cables and technological modifications the man was no longer human, shedding all sense of morality along with whatever was flesh he was a cruel mockery of the Necrons.

"It is a shame that your society is marred by secrecy and paranoia, your soldiers don't even know why they are expendable." Khaoron said, bringing his voice to the new speaker.

"They are expendable because the Emperor decrees it!" Myllinox shot back, his own voice a modulation of hyper technical notes.

Khaorons eyes sneered when he caught the twitch of the Sternguard, just one more push "Is that so? Then tell me Archmagos...is she here? Within this failed counterfeit of Necron technology."

Behind a hood of Mechatendrils Myllinox held a glare of pure contempt as the Inquisitor spoke next.

"Once again you overestimate yourself. Around you is the work of Man blessed by the Emperor. There is no Alien perversion as your honeyed words would suggest. You will find no victory here." The Inquisitors voice brought with it an absolute silence to the Archmagos.

Khaoron cursed inward. As long as the brick wall of a man remained there was no reaching the Archmagos. Even with the Necrons dominance above ground Khaoron cared for none of it if he failed now.

His eyes scanned the area rapidly. Time was precious in the precarious stage and sooner or later he would have to make his move. Suddenly, he noticed a bubbling of emotion. Unbridled, nearly uncontained…but most importantly a crucial weakness.

"Are you satisfied with this ending?" he asked.

There was a silence. Once again the Inquisitor was a master of hiding his expression. The Archmagos however glanced around unsure.

"Do you feel pride knowing that I may die at the cost of 42,574,325,779 lives?"

"Silence alien!" The Sternguard shouted back. His disciplined stance a crumbling front for the fury that was boiling within.

"Do you feel pride in the travesty of billions dead for one lie?" Khaoron prodded, he knew that there were only seconds left. The Archmagos had barked orders and the Skitarii fingers were only millimetres from their triggers.

He made sure that his voice carried the right tone, modulation and weight. His ruby eyers shone with a focussed intensity that made the message clear.

"Do you feel proud knowing that you have been betrayed?"

As the Necron spoke a bright flash erupted. From the Sternguards weapon came a plasma burst that hurtled past Khaorons words before exploding into the Necrons chest. The ravenous plasma tore at the refined Necrodermis and burned itself deep into the alien core.

For a moment, the ruby eyes of the Overlord went dark. Khaoron's body drifted backwards, almost floating as it fell towards the metal floor. The crimson light burned out of his system by the righteous blue fire of the Astartes.

The poetic motion was broken by the loud bangs of the Skitarii rifles, a chorus of gunfire that echoed underground. Almost in tune to the reverberations a ruby excitement pulsed within metallic eye sockets.

As the Overlord fell, the sheen of his metal frame faded to black as did the tendrils of his cape turn to smoke. Like a ghost the Necron fell through the floor of the second branch disappearing in a veil of shadows and a gargle of screams ringing above.

The Inquisitor fixed the Archmagos with a gaze of malicious disdain even as the venom dripped from his words

"Heretic."

The Archmagos barely glanced at the Inquisitor before disabling the visual connection. Then said nothing as he watched the Skitarii set to butcher the remaining Sternguard. Caught unawares the first volley of the Galvanic rifles tore into the Space marines. The shock of the action more violent and brutal than the bullets that ate at their armour and flesh, from there it didn't take long to end.

After a few minutes passed there was an echo of intense air rushing throughout the underground. Rising from platform behind the Archmagos Khaoron emerged from a pool of shadows like an ancient deity.

"My Lord." Myllinox started, the perverse grin once again clicking in his eyes as he waved a hand at the gory spectacle "Apologies for the brash play but, I would be lying if it was but a fragment of myself that wasn't wholly complicit to our accords."

Khaoron regarded the man-machine briefly then turned to inspect the fallen Space marines, their gilded armours cracked by the arm of traitors. Only one showed any sign of life, desperately clinging to shallow breaths.

"Did you really expect to escape if I deemed those accords of no benefit?" the Necron asked.

"During the past decade I have learnt more than just the art of commanding the arcane sciences." Myllinox replied with a hint of shrewdness.

Khaoron chuckled slightly, his mind working to decipher the Archmagos' words "The Parallax initiative…no the Extinction Protocols. A metric virus used by our ancient foes." Although he was surprised that the Archmagos was able to prime such a crippling weapon there was a far greater sensation that began to slowly gnaw at his mind. A faint sense of anticipation lit up in his eyes.

"With your grace, the more pressing matters at hand-" Myllinox began but was swiftly silenced by the wave of the Necrons hand.

"There's no rush…if you've achieved everything that has been instructed of you then time is our ally." Khaoron stopped short of the face to a command interface. A flash of surprise struck his mind as failed to recollect exactly when he arrived. It was ironic how dismissively he spoke of time when he was the one clearly short of it. It would have to be sooner rather than later that he needed to be reconnected to the cradle.

As Khaoron ran his hands slowly over the gothic device his eyes caught the rustle of movement in the Archmagos' machine extensions. For all the extensive modifications the creature was still human, thus had the same recognisable tropes. The Overlord spared him a glance, his eyes inviting the human to speak.

"I have traded the lives of billions for this day" the Archmagos started "My Lord to be graced with the technologies so mythic in their form I have let this world die-"

"You will get your reward, but for now here comes _my _Lord." Khaoron interrupted with a level tone.

From the air, a sudden rupture exploded outwards. A wave of light seemed to flood the space like a bridge between points and from its mouth a sentient metal liquid dripped onto reality.

Myllinox stood dumbfounded and Khaoron kept his eyes fixed on the warped scene playing in front of them. The liquid metal stream began to coalesce into a bi-pedal figure. Black in its colour and almost ethereal in its form.

Almost as soon as the dramatic entrance started it was finished. The blinding light receded upon itself and the figure drifted on the air to meet the Archmagos and Overlord. Clad in a robe of total shining darkness the figure stood as tall as the Necron Overlord, but walked with a brazen confidence. Myllinox couldn't help but be awestruck at the character.

The technophile struggled to correlate his fascination to either the magnanimous entrance, tearing through the very fabrics of reality with a callous ease. Or the substance that its body was made from. It was metal…or ceramic, maybe both. Still it flowed like a tide of mercury in the figure the equalled the physical form of the Overlord who in turn towered over the Astartes.

Nevertheless, what raptured Myllinox most, was its voice. The Phantom spoke with an echo that was agonisingly clear. Every syllable was an uncomfortable droning worse than the raging static of a fallen star.

"_If only Azshara could see you now, broken in sword but swift in dagger._" The Phantom looked directly into Khaoron as it spoke taking note of the damage the repair nano-scarabs could not attend to.

"And of you?" Khaoron asked.

When The Phantom smiled, Myllinox felt a tug of fear ripple into every electronic fibre of his brain.

"I had an unprecedented Star God to tame." The Phantom replied. "Whereas you simply had to reclaim the Necrontyr-Born and Bahamut." Khaoron kept still. "No matter I am here now."

Without thinking Myllinox took his Skitarii into the main room on the second branch. It was clear that he needed to retrieve the Sarcophagus containing the Necrontyr-Born but also a part of him loathed being in the presence of the new figure.

The Phantom watched the human leave dismissively before motioning for Khaoron to follow.

Once the Overlord too was gone it turned to face the expanse of this particular section of the underground, golden eyes rapidly inspecting every part of area.

It was almost forever before the Khaoron returned with a human in tow.

"Of all the seven Atun-Shar the Bahamut has fared times wrath fairly well."

Khaoron stopped to peer into the area and see what The Phantom saw. "For a decades work the human has managed to not only prime the Extinction Protocols but also reinstate the sovereign program for the Atun-Shar."

Reading into the Overlords voice it spoke out loud "Even with our intervention, events are moving too soon."

"Possibly." Khaoron stated flatly.

"_Astride on this plane I wonder if my perception endures to be astute. Reveal to me if in ignorance I must lay or in truth I stay._" Taking the news in a stride The Phantom motioned for the Overlord to release the human captive.

Letting her go softly the human fell with a certain grace on the floor, her dried and cracked black hair ending in rags that matched the straight jacket that she was bound in. When he reached her he could see just from the unhealthy skin and scars the years of mistreatment and experiments the human must have gone through.

As it knelt down she spluttered a cough and fitfully began to regain a measure of consciousness. Before she could rise up or fully take stock of her surroundings however a metallic hand made its way to her face, covering her eyes and forcing her to be still. The icy touch had a profound effect as within moments she began to shiver and her already erratic breaths took an even more unhealthy tone. Desperation was beginning to take over and soon the writhing and whimpering started, trapped in the confines of the straight jacket and under the insurmountable pressure of The Phantom there was no escaping the darkness.

The Phantom's golden eyes never left her as it waited patiently for the convolutions of word and movement to cease. When they did, after an eternity of minutes, its voice was a modulation of hypnotic syllables within the beating heart of the underground.

There was a soft touch to it as he simply asked her "Are you ready, to return home?"


	8. Chronicles of a Deadman Vol 6

_13 hours before I died…_

* * *

_The agitated blue star was as a white god in the clear sky. Parched clouds let the harsh solar rays lavish the open desert. The resulting intense heatwave from the sand was near miasmic, the shifting forms over a gold horizon remained enchanting as much as it was deadly._

_Then there was us, between the rising dunes and fluid sands a band of forsaken, now only four-man strong, drabbed in whatever protective fatigues we could find, leather and armoured alike. Our skull masks shrouded our faces but I knew that our eyes revealed a horrid truth. We were in a flight for more than our lives._

_Five Ankourma steeds, large reptilian mounts, galloped frantically to keep pace with the supersonic Night scythes far above into the sky. The Ocular devices within the mask of the forward most rogue kept a constant vigil of the direction of the flying craft. I could feel between us that we had already resigned ourselves to the harshness of reality, there was no way for us to catch up to the Night scythe. Despite all that we had done to gain an enormous head-start the fight against impossible odds was bearing its toll._

_Without warning a sudden reverberating sound brought us all to a thematic halt. A wave of Catacomb Command stations flanked by Ghost arks swept past, in the tense moments… as I could only stare skywards in fear I realised that the vehicles flew only tens of spaces above us. I could almost feel the pulse of panic that ran through the hearts of my companions. When the vehicles roared past it was evident that we hadn't been noticed, it should have brought us sense of relief but a perverse twist soured any optimistic thoughts. Put simply, we had survived at the expense of the city we had so desperately tried to save._

_One by one we slid off our mounts, dragging our heavy feet over the last hill to see a wave of fire. Bone shaded sepulchres and marble structures all laden in a specific geometry were reduced to ash and fuel for the flames._

_Watching the spires of black clouds rise to the sky I swore I could hear the wails of the dead. In my mind and heart I wanted to feel angry. I yearned for a measure of our suns boiling heat and heart of molten fury. It was painful, the void in my chest. The emptiness in my mind._

_I couldn't even bring the tears to my face so I turned my back on the violence, on the cold slaughter in the distance. Now facing the worn out Ankourma I cursed loudly as I saw Grecia holding onto Khara tightly. Rushing over to them both I stumbled when I caught the glare from Grecia. He had long since removed his mask, the diamond like sand was caked onto his face adding a layer of coarseness almost akin to his personality._

_Khara had taken a straight shot from one of the new order weapons. The large rifle emitted an esoteric cutting beam which had torn right through her shoulder in a flash of green light. I distinctly remember the horrid sounds of her flesh burning away and the sounds of her ringing screams._

_Drawing a small medical box from a pouch in my satchel I slid towards them, a small panic built up when I saw just how much the colour drained from her face and her normally vibrant eyes glazing over._

_My shock broke when in a sudden instant I was barrelling over the harsh sands, my sense of balance was completely thrown off and when I tried to right myself I only fell over again._

_It wasn't until the horizon levelled out and I felt a weight pressing down on me that I realised what exactly was happening. Shrouding out the sun in a visage of saddened rage he swore repeatedly in maddened tongue before delivering a swift blow to my face. The force of the strike sent me deeper into the sand. When I tried to look at him I was only met with yet another blow._

_With each hit I was so sure I could feel just a fragment of Grecia's pain. Despite that it didn't take long for the rest of my comrades, Kar'vikten and Lydell, to tackle the enraged Necrontyr to the ground. When the full force of the sun hit me it was then, like a searing blast I could feel the agonising emotions within. Behind the walls of my face a well of tears sprang and as much as I struggled and willed against them the stream of warmth fell down like a torrent._

_Rising up I couldn't help but give a passing glance at Grecia, his eyes mirrored the pain that I felt and there was no way for me to feel anything but a sense of empathy. It was a supreme effort to tear my eyes from his. Taking tender steps I walked up to the Ankourma, recovering the medical box and its strewn contents along the way and knelt down besides Khara._

_Her breaths were dreadfully shallow, on the verge of life and death my mind felt blank and my hands trembled. I wasn't sure what I was meant to do except apply a bigger dose of anaesthetic and leave her in limbo._

_"Artesa"_

_I wasn't sure for how long my name was called out for in the short space of time but it all sounded like the same echo. Eventually my weary eyes met with Lydell._

_"If the Athias cannot be saved then we must return to the Library, with the archives online we can begin the reversion initiative."_

_As dangerous and foolhardy as her words sounded, I knew it was our best chance to get through the nightmare. As I rose to strap Khara back onto her mount a cold wind tore through my ashen skin. Out here under our scorching star I felt an otherworldly cold. The fine pricks of my hair went into shock as I slowly faced to the east._

_Across the desert. Over the golden dunes, the grains of sand began to shift in waves of laughter. Their dancing movements weaved in and out of vision until after a moment a solid form was produced, marred by alien robes and eyes deeper than space the Star-god looked right at us._

_And we, in our disbelief stared back at Mephet'ran…the Deceiver._


	9. Aftermath Part 1

The Necrons had brought the work of generations of Imperial labour to a crushing halt in mere hours.

At the first sign of new dawn, when the planet was lit up by the glaring light of the red giant Balladan, the Necrons had begun their extraction. A tidal wave of Canoptek harvesters and sentinels took to the planet to scour all available resources while the Crypteks accompanied by Spyders and Ghost arks worked to salvage any piece of fallen technology.

As the auxiliary forces of the Necrons toiled away at the scarred planet the bulk of the military forces were stored away, slumbering aboard the vast Tombships. At the centre of the fleet was the _Shadowlith_ an enormous flagship that carried with it a presence of domination. The flagship was a combination of both Cairn and Scythe class vessels, a unique design that belonged to only a handful since the great sleep.

At the very core of the vessel, hidden behind heavy defence matrices and beyond the bridge was the Regents throne room. It was a vast area dedicated to the Overlord and at the far end of the long straight room was an obsidian black throne that hovered above a sea of liquid metal. Upon it was Khaoron, nestled amid a myriad of humming cables that connected to ports all over the Necrons body.

Glimmering in the ambient light two rows of pillars rising from the sea stretched out from the base of the throne.

Atop each pillar stood the nobles of Astilia, Necrons all worth dozens of men in clout and intelligence, but all the more slave to their Overlord. There were ten pillars in all and thus ten members of Khaorons royal court.

As he scanned the forms and eyes of all the seven in attendance, plus an added extra he wasn't ready to deal with just yet, Casa'ravon continued to drone on about the more technical state of affair and their extraction. In a simple sense the Tesseract Vault was near unsalvageable and while Maleghra may have been regarded as the pinnacle of Human craftsmanship, to the Necrons it was nothing but dust.

This was only made further evident when a subsection of the underground had been destroyed from the stress of the apocalypse above, the result was an inevitable collapse that cleared over seventy per cent of the Forge Palace superstructure causing several hundred layers of the hive to sink into the earth. Along with it a sizeable amount of the Necron forces lost to the dark below.

Betraying nothing in his eyes Khaoron sat unmoving and listened carefully to every word that the Cryptek spoke. He found it amusing the mannerisms and choice of words as the Cryptek skilfully danced around any concrete reason for the Necrons to remain on Maleghra.

Of the ten members of his court there were four High-Crypteks in total and it amazed him how all but Casa'ravon perished during _their_ supposed sealing of the C'tan. The C'tan.

Trying to remain unmoving on his obsidian throne was becoming more and more difficult. As an alien machine older than Mankind there was little to feel except a melancholy cold. Yet, with a cognizance that works at a staggering pace Khaoron knew what the emulated emotions were.

Frustration. Anger. Impatience. Greed. Envy. Wrath…Fear.

An unwitting blaze in his ruby eyes burned a hollow silence into the Regents Throne room. Casa'ravon went silent. Khaoron felt a fleeting emotion at his misstep.

Still, the sudden quiet isn't all that bad. Now the Overlord could read the internecine power plays between the members of his royal court, and truth be told he didn't care much for it as long as they remembered the one position that was forever out of their reach.

Zankhrow looked up and spoke to him directly.

"My Lord, it is impossible to ignore the growing concerns at outcome of this war. Preliminary calculations estimate our damage at 73% of our mobile forces...from what Casa'ravon has told us the Tesseract Vault is irrecoverable, despite the Transcendent C'tan Horun'dai being sealed" he shot the Cryptek an icy glance "and there is little worth left for us on this world."

The Overlord leaned forward and clasped his hands, reading the intent behind the statement it was clear he was going to have to step on more than a few egos before they reached home.

"What else is on your mind?" he asked to no one in particular and for a while, no one answered him so continued "All of you here are blinded by the material strings attached to conflict, the human planet was much more than a factory to their war or a gear in a machine. Decades have passed since the last whispers of the Dominion, history turned to myth and fear into fairy tale...we gave them a reason to fear again."

Catching the subtle rustle of Zankhrow's eye told him that there was another underlying concern that needed to be resolved.

"The damage sustained over the hours past are an acceptable loss considering the amount we have gained." as Khaoron spoke on the far end a Necron lord by the name of Ozimas queried the Overlords statement.

"With all respect my Lord, what have we gained from this world? Under the Dominion we already have a dozen worlds enslaved to us so of what worth is another Human nest amongst the billions left to them?"

That statement struck a chord with the attendant nobles. The liquid metal sea beneath them bubbled and popped, ready to explode.

"The root of all your concerns are based on not seeing the bigger picture-" Khaoron started but was abruptly interrupted by another lord, Sousek.

"The bigger picture is that you have led us to a world drunk on the need for self-gratification, wanting to prove yourself a worthy Overlord. Now Astilia is trapped in the aftermath of your failures and we have no other Necron tombs to rectify the damage you have caused!"

There was a concussive silence after the Lord's outburst. Sousek's eyes were marred with triumph, no other lord dared to make any form of facial contact and simply felt content to stare at the waves of liquid metal beneath them. On the far side Xenon noted with disdain the disrespect but was unwilling to make any movements, no judicial laws had been broken, yet.

Khaoron leaned back on his throne, he couldn't fault any of his nobles for striving for power. The Overlord was sat silent. His eyes never straying. His thoughts more focussed than ever before.

_"__Patience; My wilted flower, is power over more. Never in absence of action; Rather, in my gilded passion hold me in caution. Until It is time I act upon this War." _Khaoron's voice flowed with a serenity that was far-removed from his eyes.

Sousek seemed taken off-guard by the conflicting intonations. The noble's demeanour slowly broke under the silent weight to reveal the impatient machine that he was.

Impatience. It was this that brought an incessant nagging which ate at his mind when he thought of the centuries of work it had taken to reach this point, yet there was still more left to do with both the Necrontyr-born, Astilia and the Library. What he didn't need was the wolves circling his throne. Still, he knew exactly how to deal with Sousek, and any other upstart.

A motion of his hand brought all ambient lights within the room dark. From the centre of the assembly, at the base of the Overlords throne a holographic projection exploded into life. The display was a vivid recording of a private chamber, within its Spartan confines a clear image of Sousek paced with impatience.

From the shadows, although expertly well-hidden even from the Overlords Nano-scarab spies, a second figure appeared.

The following conversation was the usual plot and scheming he expected from one of his vassals, the figure spoke with a crafted tongue.

It would never explicitly state anything but instead flaunted grandiose notions of ruling Astilia and seeking other dynasties and worlds to conquer in front of Sousek who was all too eager to bite. It was only when the conversation reached its climax that a pallid fear donned on them all, apparently drunk on his own ego Sousek spoke of overthrowing the Triarch stationed on the world, getting rid of them would make him both Regent and Judicator of the tomb world and all its forces.

As the hologram dissipated and Sousek stood thunderstruck Khaoron leaned forward, his voice now matching his eyes in an echo of hidden malice.

"Under rightful law as Regent, any insubordinate action against one's world or person is deemed punishable as seen fit. However, against the Judicial law of the Triarch the penalty is meted out by the overseeing Legionnaire."

A flare of light and hiss of energy saw the pillar Sousek stood upon crumble, its former occupant, nothing more than a floating cube. Interlocking and transforming in on itself the Tesseract labyrinth floated briefly before finding its way into the firm grasp of Xenon the Triarch Legionnaire.

The assembly stood in silence. The wary rustled slightly on the pillars they stood, cautious of the labyrinths no doubt hidden within each one.

"We leave this world in 12 hours, no more no less." Khaoron commanded.

At once, the liquid metal sea froze and the ten pillars sunk delivering the remaining royal court members to the floor. One by one they made their way out of the throne room leaving their Overlord and Legionnaire for their own vessels.

As Khaoron descended from his throne the snake like cables detached from his body with a silent hiss as he was met by a level stare from Xenon "In fear, your rule is absolute."

"And in our fears we are ruled absolutely." The Overlord finished, giving the Necron a quick glance he motioned for both to enter the royal chambers behind the throne. Khaoron had twelve hours before they left Maleghra for Astilia but there was still one more person to deal with.


	10. Aftermath Part 2

There was a definitive darkness in the confines of the _Shadowlith_, among its silent corridors and hanging ceilings Khaoron, Overlord of Astilia kept his eyes calculatively neutral. Beside him and keeping pace throughout the vast interstellar craft was the head of the Triarch forces.

Eons ago, in an entirely different age, a vessel as large as the _Shadowlith_ would have surely had over a thousand strong thralls endlessly working to keep the ship in order. Now the silence was ghostly. The ship was dim, and its atmosphere was like a twilight forest. Mechanical footsteps echoed restlessly and the chill temperature was unnerving. For the living dead, the Necrons it all meant nothing.

At the breaking point of their race, when their collective souls were sold and lives purged, so too did any sense of ergonomic humanity.

Xenon paid it no heed, the Legionnaire was stoic and selfless to the Necron cause. A fitting leader for the Triarch subdivisions and a very powerful ally. Still, as Khaoron read the subtle fluctuations of Xenon's reticals and his carefully monotonous tone he found the Legionnaire was as much a subject to the curse of the Necrons.

"One Tomb, a handful of vessels, a consort of worlds enslaved and a dying legion. The only thing stable in this Babel Tower is fear, but soon that too will vanish from your hold. Khaoron what do you hope to change by destroying Human worlds at random?" the Legionnaire asked.

Khaoron stopped abruptly, his ruby eyes were almost as dim as the hanging lights. He raised his hand. His fingers stretched and retracted in routine. Watching the joints actuate in smooth motions was almost painful.

Looking back to Xenon he replied with a haunting tone.

"_I had a Vision that our race can change, that the real illusion was believing in the disillusion of choice_."

Xenon shook his head in disdain "Don't feed me your parables, I'm not your vassal."

Khaoron gave him a distinct stare before choosing his words carefully "It's simple process of evolution. Kick-starting the cycle before it stagnates, you of all people should know how this universe works. As they say it's a survival of the fittest, I'm just trimming the fat before fate starts throwing stones at us again."

"So, how many of your kin will you throw into death until you're satisfied?" Xenon asked pointedly.

A moments silence passed. Khaorons eyes smiled "We're already dead."

The Legionnaires eyes fell into a scowl, as he let all of the Overlords words settle in his mind "You tread a dark path Khaoron, I cannot begin to understand the workings of a mind so cryptic. As the Judicial head of the Triarch of Astilia you have permission to work your plans and experiments for now-"

"Or else what?" Khaoron stated flatly, he had the visage of the damned and his eyes were almost on fire "If even you cannot begin to fathom the shadow that falls on our race then there is no future for us."

The silence between the two was threatening. Shed of all former frailties the two Necrons stood as mechanical giants, towering over Astarte's and clad in the most sophisticated necrodermis shell available to their status.

"You tread a dark path Overlord, I care not for the workings of a mind bent on vengeance and vindication, you can work your plans and experiments for now, however... If I deem that in _your_ self-destruction Astilia is in any way endangered...Judicial law will be in full effect."

Despite the full gravity of Xenon's words ringing in his mind and the confines of the vessel seemingly shaking at the Legionnaires conviction Khaoron let a chuckle loose. The fire in his eyes faded in place of a calm stare and a certain darkness between them washed out.

As the Overlord stepped onto the base of the main transport rail, neither Necron could let their eyes stray from the other, a spark of wariness was in the calculated air only offset by the low tick of the transport rails activation.

The rhythmic siren soon picked up until a warm glow shed a caressing light upon the two Necron figures, Khaoron who was bathed in the white contrast began to enter into a slow, hollow laugh. Whether the sound reached Xenon or not the Overlord didn't care.

"Everything changes, everything evolves." was his only whisper as he looked down on the Legionnaire below, the lift ascending him to the dark above.

* * *

_If I could, I would stay buried in the black around me._

_I can't help but feel cocooned by the tumbling beats of my thoughts, my chest is on fire. My head is numb with cold. I'm not too sure if I can see...maybe I've gone blind, or maybe everything is just black._

_Does it really matter though? I know I'm somewhere...in the dark, lying down on a floor colder than ice. I really want to believe that I died, or maybe that I was never born into this nightmare._

* * *

A steady crackle of alien joints and mechanical levers echoed quietly in the black room.

The door swivelled open to let the Necron figure enter. Khaoron stopped in its centre, looking around at the curved walls he noted the illusionary endless expanse on all sides, microscopic shards glittered with dull light almost akin to stars in the sky, in truth the area resembled the vastness of deep space. The infinite nothing and the interstellar void.

As he let his eyes wander he soon settled on the human girl that had herself curled up into at tight corner. A slight irritation boiled over as he recalled just how much his preparations were being rushed, everything between now and the twelve hours they left for Astilia had to be flawless and without incident. On Astilia if his calculations were correct then he could earnestly begin work on the next phase before finally heading to the Archive.

Time was crucial but making sure that all parameters were covered was even more so. A consort of thoughts ran in his mind but foremost was how to deal with the human. For starters he had ensured that none other knew that he had the human in captive.

He took a single stride forward and slowly clasped his hands around her. The sudden feeling had brought the human into a catatonic state, Khaoron couldn't tell if it was the eerie cold of his Necrodermis body or the sudden realisation of another presence. Nevertheless, he effortlessly dragged her body into the rooms centre, near enough forcing her to stand he slowly lifted the veil of scarabs that had covered her eyes.

As the human adjusted to the change of vision she gasped in turmoil of surprise. Since her retrieval from the Maleghran forges, Khaoron had all but her sense of touch nullified and now, with the restrictions lifted there was a wave of sensory information that travelled unfiltered into her mind.

Khaoron slowly stepped backwards, his dark frame although impossibly larger than the human moved quietly and with a soft pace. He watched her closely, studied her varying features. The subtle tones of colour in her eyes contrary to the shifting facial muscles, they were all metrics to the Overlord and he fully intended to make use of them.

The illusion of space was playing as much wonders with the human's mind as was then carefully concocted breathable atmosphere that the room was slowly feeding. In her stumbling she was captured by the faint points, the illusive darkness and delicate geometry of the area.

"Wonderful isn't it?" Khaoron asked playfully.

Torn from her reverie she snapped forwards to search for the source of the voice and lost her breath when she finally noticed the scale of the Necron before her.

"Out here, in this tranquil of space everything seems...infinitesimal. Our goals, ambitions and schemes are witnessed by the stars. In time, everything is dust and in the dust the ashes of rebirth, a cycle for the next era." Every syllable echoed like the voice of a magi.

Subtle. never outstanding but covert in each intonation, the human was enamoured by his words, no longer in shock at his frame but captivated by resonance in the illusion of space.

"Time," he began again, slowly walking around her, making sure to keep his distance but close enough for his words to carry their weight "Space and reality, the wheels of order and chaos, the cycles of life and death...we ponder the meanings of our existence, we ride on chariots of war and sprout the flowers of devastation. The stars will be our witness, time our Judge."

When he stopped the world faded to black, the twinkles of faraway stars were snuffed out in an instant. In their place all around a panorama of liquid metal flowed into reality, a picturesque scene washed before her very eyes, dancing in tune to the narrative of the Overlord.

The play started, a stellar riptide mimicking the onset of creation, the universe at its infancy, roiling with hyper-intense matter. Hyper giant stars burned furiously in the hectic environment. Their raging power spent in only a handful of epochs.

Then came the cooling, the scales of balance. From the stars and the matter, the first sentient creatures were born, voracious interstellar-vampires, lusting on the vast energy resources. The vivid imagery was astounding to the human, completely lost in the sight and the words of Khaoron it was if she was watching history from the eyes of a beyonder. A spark broke her rapture however, a sense of foreboding that questioned the subliminal thoughts.

"W-who are you?" her words came slow, overly-cautious but most importantly...fearful. Khaoron's ruby eyes smiled wolfishly.

"I am a chronicler" her confused expression was the cue for him to carry on "a Necron, as are you."

It took her a while to formulate thoughts that then translated into words "What am I doing here? What is all of this?" were just of the few coherent questions that made it to Khaoron.

"Every era" he began while slowly taking roundabout strides towards her "There was always an event that cleared the slate, a cataclysm that ended the rule of prior civilisations. For the Necrontyr the C'tan. Old Ones, the Enslavers. In the case of the C'tan, the Necrons. The greed of the Eldar brought their downfall and for Mankind...a heretic." By the time he finished Khaoron stood behind her, the gravity of his presence freezing the human "The shadow of the apocalypse is coming, and all those unwilling to evolve will be carried along the wings of destruction."

At his words the room erupted with a spray of pure white, an avalanche of snow encased them both. With the sudden colour shift the human sprang into action, her fearful instincts forcing her to spin in confusion before resting to a sudden stop in the Necrons arms. Her blur of movement had shaken her already feeble balance and before her mind even registered it she had nearly fallen to the floor. As Khaoron caught her his eyes kept a fixed stare that was unwavering, drawing her full attention.

"You have not fallen, you are no Necron. You are a Necrontyr-born, the product of a hope from a race that lived and died eons ago, you are the culmination of a trillion cells aligned in unison, an extraordinary being."

"Why me?" she asked faintly.

"Why not? You to harbour a genome that is the key to the next evolution. A change in the Necrons that will allow us to survive the apocalypse, in time, a change that will shape the entire galaxy. I... I need you for that."

"The galaxy? Evolution? I-I...my...there's no way I can do those things; I can't help you."

Khaoron's eyes held a second of obvious disappointment before they fluctuated to a confident stare "You're not helping me, I'm helping you. Your kind made you a pariah, spat on your gifts and tortured you for their own gain, I am going to free you, my race and this galaxy."

Holding her tightly with one hand he opened the palms of the other to reveal a smooth glowing orb. Hovering slightly the archaic item had an oceanic tint to it that was a contrast to the red trim of the Necron.

"My kind call this the Orb of Atelerix, or truth-seeker. If you believe me, then take it...if not then I will have the vessel return you to Maleghra, however I cannot guarantee the nightmares end should you go back."

* * *

_I'm resting here, in the arms of a metal giant. His red eyes are...strange, I can't say I'm not afraid but I feel a sense of serenity. Laying here, in his stone cold arms, in a sea of white not sure whether I'm flying or falling._

_I thought about what he said, what he showed me and the more my mind ponders over it the more I'm drawn away from what has been branded to me as right. All my wretched life I was force-fed to believe in the grace of man and the Emperor. It was those same people that forced their probes and ruthless claws for as long as my memories go back. The fragments, the brief interludes of pain and nausea amidst a darkness. Those are the few things I truly remember, everything else is just blur._

_The lab coats and their endless examinations. The officers and their sour gazes._

_Now. As I gaze into the sphere a bottomless longing erupts in my chest. If I'm honest I don't understand any of what I'm seeing or hearing and I can barely begin to describe what this feeling. The only thing I know…is that I was born with either a gift or a curse and for once I finally have a choice._

* * *

The doors to the specialised holding chambers wound to a close with a hush of silence. The twilight interior was a reflection of the calm that was in Khaoron's mind, everything was slowly beginning to come together. The pieces he had taken centuries to shape are now falling into place, walking past the door and further down the corridor past the other holding chambers he stopped at a bulkhead that was the end of the passage.

A covert thought burst saw the dead-end dissipate into its nanoscarab components allowing the Overlord through. Taking his strides Khaoron stopped almost as suddenly as the way opened. His eyes flashed heatedly and he stretched out the palm of his hand. Pulling with herculean force on the sapphire strings launched from his fingertips he was greeted with a sickening wrench of ruined metal and the monophonic gargles of a dying machine.

The twisted body of a Canoptek wraith screeched across the floor stopping with a soft clang at his feet, a glowing blue eye glared back at Khaoron in mocking defiance. Khaoron washed away his anger with a shrill laugh, all the while crushing the remains of the wraith in an instant. He realised without a doubt that every step closer to his aims was another step for his competitors, the wolves were drawing closer and time… was his enemy.


	11. Throne of Shadows Part 1

In the cold of space, the Necron vessels forced their way past the hurtling asteroid belt that lay beyond the world of Maleghra. Under the Overlords tactful eyes, the reclamation process had been undertaken with ruthless efficiency and even a massive Forge world was reduced to a metal wasteland.

Hallowed edifices of both Emperor and Omnissiah were charred a permanent black and a silence hung in the air, pervasive and cold.

There were no bodies. Extinction Pylons deployed at the epicentre of the poles saw to that, total eradication of all life on a sub-atomic level. So when the Necron fleets finally turned their prows away from the world they left with them only the smoke, and stench of death.

The largest and most powerful of all their interstellar vessels, the _Shadowlith_, was commanded by none other than the Overlord. Including the four Cairn class Tombships that formed a ring around the rear at each cardinal point.

Commanded by the Lords of Khaoron's royal court, were the Scythe harvest ships and forming the backbone of the Dominion fleet, swarms of light cruisers and raiders followed in suit.

Within the flagship was the Matrix room, one of seven compartments exclusive to Eclipse class Tombships, like the _Shadowlith_, that housed a fully functioning artifice terminals and a large array of transmutation devices. It was essentially a Crypteks laboratory, all manner of esoteric devices and grafted machinery worked endlessly to create unique metalloids and exotic matter known only to the Necrons.

By means of an Eclipse vessel, the Necrons had a mobile Tomb world just shy of a fully operational World-Engine. Each Matrix room was as well secured both physically and technologically as the Overlords throne and each room was dedicated to the study of a singular discipline. In the hands of another Dynasty, with another Overlord the Matrix rooms would potentially have a throng of Crypteks all eternally engrossed in their work.

With Khaoron things operated much differently. As the head of the conclave of Crypteks Casa'ravon had access to the entirety of the vessel including six of the seven rooms. The final obsidian door only opened to Khaoron and within, instead of Crypteks he had Canoptek sentries and Necron warriors forever installed in each artifice station.

They would work and study only to his decree and every zettabyte of information gleaned was transferred into the cradle awaiting the inevitable download into his mind.

It was this particular room that Khaoron found himself striding towards. With a quick thought burst the doors slid open allowing him entrance into the sterile atmosphere. Inside he found all of his enthralled warriors and sentries tirelessly at work on a task that wasn't what he expected.

Dedicated to the cartography of all things biological, this room was vastly unlike the others which were based around the fundamental physics such as the discipline of Chronomancy, Psychomancy and Transmogrification. Here, Rows upon rows of tubular prisons, varying in size were situated everywhere with a network of cables and feeds relaying data back-and-forth between terminals.

Within the databanks of this Matrix room was supposed to be the complete genome of all living things the Necrons had catalogued before the Great Sleep and that which the Dominion discovered afterwards.

As a warrior brushed past him in its mute shambling Khaoron noted its shallow golden eyes, confusion suddenly melded into anger as he slowly realised what they meant.

Khaoron forced his mind into the network, his primary directive tearing down the intricate security setups and rebuilding them all in a matter of micro-seconds. A crimson tidal wave washed over the digital landscape overriding all previous user commands and re-instating himself as the one true Overlord.

A minute passed before a serene voice broke him from his reclamation. "I'm sorry, I would have stopped him but…He knows. Everything."

Khaoron glanced at the soft red light. Reaching with his hand he caressed the multi-faceted cube while keeping his eyes neutral.

"Does… this mean you acknowledge my existence?" the cube asked, its locking motions mimicking the soothing voice that seemed only to whisper in Khaorons ears.

"Yes, I'm sorry for before. My mind was spent too long within the dream to see you for what you are." The Overlord replied.

"So do you remember me?" the cube asked once again.

"Aerein." Khaoron stated, A smile in his eyes.

The cube shrunk on itself into a single wisp before erupting outwards into a vibrant shower of rose petals showering the sombre architecture of the Matrix room in a vivid art show reminiscent of the vast theatres of the ancient Necrontyr.

"This way I'll take you to him." The petals spoke in unison as they flowed deeper into the Matrix room.

In the short journey Khaoron tried to make sense of the experiments conducted within the Matrix room. His rampant reset of the network had rendered all the warriors and sentries inert, their minds closed off from further probing.

Regardless, Khaoron knew he would have answers soon as he reached the central mainframe. A massive conical pillar thrummed with golden energy as it displayed a series of equations all related to the effects of distortion on relative mass and the temporal effects of localised breaches.

At the base of the mainframe The Phantom loomed over the data being processed. Amidst it was a composite setup of simulation drives and a single Tesseract labyrinth.

"You shouldn't be here." Khaoron almost shouted out. He knew The Phantom could hear him over the intense beats of the mainframe so was patient to let his ruby eyes burn into the star-cloaked back of the figure.

In time The Phantom picked itself from the data screens to spare the Overlord the briefest of glances and to say "I go where I please."

"Not here. Not now." If The Phantom was going to trade with short answers then so could he.

The figure chuckled. "What makes you so sure?"

Khaoron cocked his head in a playful manner. His eyes flashed momentarily and with it so to the mainframe. The golden energy burned out in a red flare before fading to black, in sync was an echoing buzz that reached outwards signalling the complete deactivation of the system.

The Phantom gazed upwards, its eyes speechless.

"You should be on Maleghra, ensuring the third Atun-Shar is online." Khaoron stated matter-of-factly.

Turning around The Phantom let his surreal form blend in with the darkness, leaving only two gold stars glaring into the Overlord.

"Who's to say that I'm not already there?" The Phantom started. Catching the slight narrowing of Khaorons eyes it continued "Well the proper term is that I was already there. Still am in matters of perspective. Don't worry, you'll catch on in time, for now though let there be light." At the command of The Phantoms words the Matrix room was once again awash with light.

Khaoron used every iota of his dominant will to not break eyes from the twin golden suns. He didn't want to miss whatever happened next, for better or worse he had to witness even the smallest fragment of movement within The Phantom.

"I'm sorry…he really does know everything." The petals spoke solemnly.

The Overlord cursed inwardly. His eyes never noticed, despite the intense fixation, never even registered that The Phantom stood beside him. Its lean figure pitch black with the metallic twinkle of faraway stars an equal to his sleek and almost majestic armoured frame.

"Apologies for the intrusion but I needed to test a working theory, for our benefit of course." The Phantom spoke with an almost sincere tone.

"If so then the Atun-Shar Bahamut must already be active, well at least the inter-stellar capabilities if you're bothering to look into the effects of mass distortion." Khaoron replied matching the faux sincerity.

"Maybe. Still you can never be too sure, if I recall it was you that taught me that." The Phantom said as it stepped away from Khaoron. Regarding the rose petals with a faint smile in its eyes the figure stopped at the command centre of the mainframe. Operating the device in swift strokes The Phantom initiated a master reset across the entirety of the _Shadowlith_.

"Unlike the other Atun-Shar's we discovered Bahamut certainly seemed like it was in pristine condition." The Phantom started while creating a though burst towards Khaoron who could see exactly what it saw "However, when I tried to apply the co-ordinates for the Archive the system ran into a fail-safe. The Technomandrites did their job almost too well. What I hoped to achieve was a way to fool the genetic identifiers with a temporal harness."

"You wanted to send the engine back in time within a controlled space…that way the automated systems would register all as Necrontyr based on the timeline." Khaoron finished. Theoretically it was a masterfully brilliant plan, yet the level of detail required in the execution was simply astronomically high. Beyond anything Casa'ravon would dream of nor anything Khaoron himself would regards as a first course tactic.

"_Hope_, I didn't take you for one to rely on such fantasies." The Overlord though out loud.

The Phantom, ever the master of faux expressions made a grandiose display of shock "_Yonder across the edges Raven, the waters time tells that lo'… Men only die when hope dissolves before the dawn of the 'morrow._"

"Ethmeht's Didact, during the climax of verse 2." Just as Khaoron spoke he raised his hand and with it the Tesseract labyrinth glided into his palm. "You don't mind if I keep this do you for insurance purposes?"

Golden eyes narrowed into a small glare before retracting into a neutral state. Khaoron pressed on "If you aim to use temporal effects on the Atun-Shar, wouldn't it be of benefit to have the avatar of time within your grasp, say a fragment of the C'tan of time itself. Naturally what I had was a coalescent God kept in a mobile prison who escaped during the siege of a human world…we both know that there was no way to wholly seal that kind of power in this single device. I'm sure you wouldn't miss one out of maybe the six or seven in your current collection. Sounds like everything went according to your plan."

"Almost everything went to plan." The Phantom replied. In the moment a hand reached out to snatch the labyrinth from the Overlords grasp. A few seconds passed as the two figures locked eyes. The first to break free was The Phantom, slowly it brushed past Khaoron to meet an iridescent doorway open before it.

Khaoron rolled his eyes before speaking again, this time with a solemn emotion "This journey, across an ocean of stars…how does it end? Will either of us remain standing to meet our ambitions? Or is it just a fantasy dreamt in desert sands…"

Arching its head to the twilight above as if to count the stars The Phantom spoke with a quiet howl "Time can forestall me no longer and Destiny will not stop you."

With that it stepped into the breach in space, leaving behind the faint burst of a stellar riptide and the Tesseract labyrinth.

* * *

47 minutes before departure to Astilia.

Kar'taknen remained impassively silent while his Overlord worked away.

It wasn't the first time he had been in one of the Matrix rooms. Though the techno-sorcery of his kin was always useful he never really cared for how it works or where it comes from, only that it does. Still it was always a source of internal glee that it was he and not Casa'ravon that would be graced with being in the final room.

Despite being inside a fountain of knowledge the weight of it was lost on him. Kar'taknen sighed heavily when his Overlord motioned for him to step forward. There were other things on his mechanical mind.

"It doesn't take a Cryptek to know that even in here, there are eyes everywhere all looking at things that some consider _infringing_." As the Necron lord spoke he made a grandiose show of all the enslaved Warriors and Sentinels.

Khaoron studied him briefly, his eyes betraying nothing.

"Concern for all this is unnecessary. I have the minds of all the sentries here cleared every ten hours. The back-ups are all broken down and randomly merged with the streams from the other rooms, while the only whole replicate is instantly locked within my personal records."

Kar'taknen's eyes smiled wolfishly. Techno-sorcery was never his forte however he did appreciate the merits of the shrewd, even if he didn't always employ it himself.

"Paranoia aside, you have something to show me."

Now, it was Khaoron's turn to smile. It was a constant source of irritation how Kar'taknen could so callously regard him, and yet he always found it amusing for no other reason that he would be the same, if the roles were reversed.

"It's time that my hands and eyes become educated." as he began the cold light in the Matrix room suddenly flared into burning life. The cacophony of working machinery merged together and in their midst a larger than life holographic display erupted.

Kar'taknen knew to listen carefully even as he studied the digital figures and symbols that danced in the air, in tandem to the Overlords words. "In the century that has passed since we reclaimed a fragment of the Archive on Kronus it is clear that there were those within our race who had put in place plans that would span eons of time."

"Time is irrelevant when you are immortal." The Noble stated.

"Of course it is, as a machine we are indefinite, but as Necrontyr we could hardly have been classed amongst the living." Khaoron examined the eyes of his noble and began to speak before he could interject again "What I'm saying is that according to the Archive, there were a caste of Pariahs who started a chain of evolution which has progressed…unimpeded to this day."

There was a hollow silence as the imagery now took the form of several DNA strains.

"These _Pariahs_ then are linked to the greater Archive?" Kar'taknen asked.

"I've ran multiple searches through the entire Kronus Archive and the databanks within Astilia. Whoever or whatever they are clearly didn't want to be found. All that's left is a legacy, a unique genome that can unlock our evolution."

Kar'taknen let the words fully sink into his mechanical mind. As he was about to speak he paused when his eyes instinctively settled on a DNA strain. Amidst the dozens presented on the hologram he recognised the blighted architecture as belonging to the Necrontyr.

With a thought burst he took control of the display and zoomed in on the Necrontyr DNA. It was almost surreal watching with a vexed fixation the way the display took shape of the biological textbook of his race. Unravelling the double-helix the mainframe began to isolate the countless defects within the genetic strain.

When Kar'taknen spoke again his words were still and eerily quiet "I used to laugh at the way our Viziers and Crypteks would struggle to find a cure for our race, they would spend their entire blighted lives seeking to extend it even for just a day."

"_Alas! How little does a man know in the way of knowledge life? The waters flow, to his hands clasped in strife, but like water it runs between his fingers so, and yet, if his hands be but wet as though with dew, behold a generation of fools call out, 'See, he is a wise man!' and I say am I not a fool too?_"

Soon the mainframe stopped its analysis, settling on the genetic defect that was the final nail in the coffin for the Necrontyr.

"That such a small chain of protein could end the lives of so many" Khaoron started, his voice echoing with a poetic tone "When our Viziers found this strain they believed it to be the final key to our salvation."

Kar'taknen scoffed coldly. Still Khaoron carried on with a smile in his eyes.

"While salvation eluded them then, for us now, in this new era we have a future."

The Overlord took control of the display, pushing the genetic strain to one side he created a new visual. This time it took the shape of a human, female. This was the part Kar'taknen had been waiting for, the relevance and the next phase.

"Recall the Technomandrites, a conclave of our most learned and well-versed Crypteks, Artisans and Viziers. Through them our technology was, and remains unrivalled. An Eldar can no more take up a Gauss blaster than a Space marine have any hope of using a warscythe."

"True…but there are those of the silver caste that use our Tesseract labyrinths to ensnare the Daemons of this world."

"If a primate on S'zaro presses a button to a doomsday device is it intelligent?" Khaoron questioned like a teacher to student who was about to be surprised by the answer.

"A primate that holds the keys to doomsday is a primate best kept far away."

Khaoron paused for a moment, taking in the swift reply he noted how the noble thought. Simplicity was his forte, it made him predictable it made him easy to control. It made him loyal.

"The architects of our supremacy, the Pariahs of our society. Everything is connected in this world and I intend to discover it with the Necrontyr-born. She will open the doors to the Library."

* * *

_It took me longer than I'll admit to realise that the echoing around me was myself. I was laughing, still am if I'm honest. The smile on my face must be so horrid, imagining my ugly face and ugly hair with ugly eyes grinning from ear to ear. Horrid._

_Even so the light around me was picturesque. The emerald tufts of grass stretched outwards for as far as I can see and I remember thinking and wishing so hard for this not to end, to live this scene of tranquil forever was as if a dream was coming true from the nightmares of my reality._

_Here, in this room, in this world I have control. Although, I'm not sure that I understand what it possibly means to have full control. My memories the fragments and pictures in my head are all jaded and move like smoke._

_Where I come from, why am I here, what's my name? _

_The thought slips in. Every time. It…breaks everything. The grass turns brown; the warm sun dies. From the horizon I witness something. An on-rush of dust. _

_A black cloud is coming._

_An army of metal, with a vision of destruction._

_Just like that._

_It ends. My dream and reality collides until I'm back here. Lying slouched on the coldest surface ever, not knowing if I'm falling or floating in infinite space. My only respite, was a small ocean ball._

_After…it left I didn't know what to do. My head pounded viciously and the thumping of my chest was growing worse, and yet, as one with the pulse of my racing heart the ball would shine._

_Whenever I touched it felt smooth. If I had to describe the feeling it would be something like a pearl. Though I've never touched a pearl just the thought and the way the name…pearl…just smoothly escapes my mouth makes me think it has to be a nice thing to hold._

_The ball, the thing called it something. An orb of somewhere._

_Orb. Ball. Orb. Ball._

_Orb sounds, better._

_And then it starts again._

_As soon as I settle, my heart relaxing and the pressure building up behind my eyes calming the orb glows intensely. The ocean I see is replaced with a torrent, of sand. Golden and sapphire sand._

_I claw at my eyes to clear the irritation, not like my whole body doesn't ache but I was told my eyes were precious._

_Still when I open them, I'm back in my field. The emerald tufts of grass stretched outwards for as far as I can see and I remember thinking and wishing so hard for this not to end, to live this scene of tranquil forever was as if a dream was coming true from the nightmares of my reality._

_Here, in this room, in this world I have control. If I had to be honest with you, I'm not sure that I understand what it possibly means to have full control. My memories the fragments and pictures in my head are all jaded and move like smoke._

_Where I come from, why am I here, what's my name? _

_The thought slips in. Every time. It…breaks everything. The grass turns brown; the warm sun dies. From the horizon I witness, something. An on-rush of dust. _

_A black cloud is coming._

_An army of metal, with a vision of destruction._

_But behind them I see something, an engine…a Library. _

* * *

Kar'taknen glared thoughtfully into Khaoron's eyes.

A chuckle escaped his mouth as he pondered over everything he had been shown. The Technomandrites, the Triarch the Library.

It was all too much for him. Not that his machine mind couldn't grasp it just that some part of him, whether by intrinsic fault in the Biotransferrance or cruel design chose not to fathom the workings of schemers and mad-men.

He watched Khaoron, the way the Overlord carried himself. The fronts the arrogance the deceit, it had reminded him of one of the plays told in his previous life. The tale of a Necrontyr, drunk on his own self-importance and blinded by the unending suffering.

In the finale, the Necrontyr sold his soul to the devil dressed in gold.

"When they realise, the truth about you about everything. There will be nowhere left for you to hide." Kar'taknen stated flatly as he made his way out of the Matrix room.

Khaoron looked at him. His gaze marred with a serene calm and his ruby eyes as empty as space. "I had a vision, of a world more dreamt of than a thousand sons, if my kin choose to stand against that then even Immortality will be put to the test."

Kar'taknen thought for a moment. Not wanting to spend any more time pondering over the backdrop to the theatre. It amused him, when put in that perspective, the apparent intricacies of the stage.

Soon though the actors had to make their appearance and with a ravenous glee he looked forward to his.

Within the Matrix Room, Khaoron let the instruments of his mind wander. He realised, long ago that if he stopped thinking. Ceased the trillions of protocol engines from operating he could dream, of a place farther than any star.

A world of emerald grass and a golden sun.

Aerein returned to his side.

"_Flee my dearest. Lead me astray to my fantasia inside lay the King's hideaway. Forgive me, two faces presented dear, that my maxim remain a shade. One for the world, one for God, save me for I cannot cry 'cause the shoulder cries more I cannot die, I, a Phantom for this cold world_."


End file.
